Hokkyokusei: The North Star
by white rabbit23
Summary: Almost a decade of peace and the Gundam pilots have all settled down. All except Trowa. And when Catherine leaves to marry the love of her life. He's alone. Formerly named Trowa's Constellation, this is Trowa's story...
1. What's Happened...

It's a matter of years after the Endless Waltz and all of the Gundam pilots are settled down happily ever after, if not on Earth then somewhere in the vast and endless universe. The encounter with the leftover Oz force is resolved and everyone's ready for years of peace to come.

Heero is still part of the Preventor force, easily moving his way up the ranks, and happily married to Relena, alias Prime Minister of the Earth-Space Coalition. Relena is currently working on a new campaign for the numerous orphaned children left by the many now resolved wars. The Prime Minister's mansion is bustling and busy as normal.

Duo is still happily married to his one true love, Hilde. They now have two children, Drei Maxwell, better known as Maxi, and his little sister, Mathilde Tiga Maxwell, alias Matte. Matte is becoming more and more like her father, with an avid interest in machinery. And when she's not sneaking into the junkyard to help her father, she's annoying her older and wiser brother. Maxi has developed a passion for pencil sketches and has gone on to draw anything that catches his eye, including cars, the long non-existent mobile suits, and people. 

Wu Fei is still heading the L5 colony and is perfectly content with his wife, Sally, and their toddler daughter, Chang Hong Fa (Red Flower) or Hazy. The little girl is getting more and more bold when she's not under her father's strict surveillance and is known for getting lost for days at a time, only to reappear again later. The happy family is expecting a baby boy in a couple months. Everyone is very excited and can't wait.

Quatre has finally admitted to his secret love to Trowa's fiery-haired sister, Catherine Bloom, and they're engaged to be married. Catherine's in the process of resigning her job as an acrobat and dagger thrower in the circus troupe that has been her home for so long. Quatre is encouraging her to pursue her ballet dream. They plan to confirm a definite wedding date as soon as Catherine finds a replacement for her spot in the troupe.

Everyone's finally settled down, with the exception of Trowa. Trowa has still got that cushy career in the circus and is a particularly successful entrepreneur. But now that his sister is going to be married, he's alone. He knows that all the others are happily set with their jobs and matches for life. And that maybe he should meet someone and live a 'normal' life, away from the instability of the circus troupe that had been his home for so many years. He doesn't know if he wants that to happen or if it ever will. He's happy for Catherine, but he simply can't show what he feels to anyone.

This is his story…


	2. Stargazer

Disclaimer: I do NOT own GW or any of the original characters, but Cala and the rest of the newbies r MINE, so don't steal 'em, or I'll hafta hunt u down…

Warning: some minor cussing, thus the PG13 rating…

Stargazer

He breathed in the cold night air. It felt relieving to be away from the heat and power of the limelight. His muscles were starting to ache, meaning that he had just had a pretty good workout. Considering his straining performance in which he had had to make up for the horrible mistakes of the trainee, he was surprised that he didn't hurt more.

Trainees.

They were the most annoying people in the entire universe, he decided. Too many questions, too many mistakes, and still never good enough for him. He knew that he was a horrible teacher, with his lack of patience and hunger of perfection that could never be fulfilled, but it just couldn't be helped. Catherine was busy with planning her wedding to train her replacement, so he had gotten stuck with the job. Unfortunate, as it was, because the last one had just quit.

That would be five, now, in the past month.

What a record.

Trowa sighed in resignation and stretched languidly on his back on the grassy hill behind of the main tent. The evening show had just finished and it had been a fairly quiet night, despite the previous yelling and complaining of the young woman that had finally and literally thrown her resignation at him after a screaming session with both the manager and his older sister.

The usual bunch of crickets was chirping their soothing melody and the serenity of the night was breathable. The key word to it all was relaxing. Surprisingly, he probably could have fallen asleep, if it hadn't been so chilly out. That was strange, to say the least, because these days he wasn't getting so many z's in, no matter how early he finished practicing. There always seemed to be something more important to do whenever he put his head flat on his pillow. Paying the bills, organizing his increasingly neat room, making some popcorn and watching an old movie that he'd seen a million times before.

Ironically, Catherine was getting the opposite of his situation. No matter how much she said that she wished she could just sit down and breathe for a minute, she said that she couldn't. "Too many things to do, so little time!" she had exclaimed to him that afternoon, as she had just rushed back in time for the performance, coming back from a dozen little errands and a quick brunch with her fiancé and his own best friend, Quatre Raberba Winner.

And whenever she hit the bed at ten-thirty, you couldn't have awakened her with an earthquake until the next morning when her alarm clock, knocked her out of bed with the sunrise talk-radio show.

He couldn't resist yet another sigh, though this one was more regretful.

Lying flat on the ground, with his hands holding up his head, he stared up at the glittering stars in the sky. The troupe was performing on Earth, so that he could look and marvel at the beauty of the view of space from it. The sky was cloudless, leaving the stars and the sliver of a crescent moon in plain sight. The stars were diamond bright, twinkling against the black blanket of a sky.

Although the camping ground the circus and troupe were stationed on was practically forest, a city lurked nearby and in the background Trowa could hear the rambunctious sounds of city life in the distance. People living their own lives now that peace after the horrible wars was there to stay. The bright lights of the city didn't reflect as much in the sky here and the stars shone clearly, as it wouldn't have in the city.

The smooth song of harmony, now well oiled again, almost fully recovered from the long years of wars and chaos, was almost overwhelming. And he knew then that his torturous pains for the peace that he had once though overrated was infinitely worth it in the end.

He had almost lost his life. No, not his, but a part of Catherine's life. Because his life had never belonged to him. Or if it had, he had been rightfully careless with it, knowing that his life was expendable, because he had been an orphan. What was so important about an orphan that made one loose his or her rights on their own lives? The fact that no one in the world cared about them. There was no one to weep for the loss of them, if they were to die. Therefore, their lives were meaningless. As his had been until he had meet Cathy and she had made his life worth living. She had given him the love that he had needed to care about living. Her willingness to lose her own life to save his. His own reasons for not seeing his actions through when she had simply ordered him to stop, unable to do more than that. His question had once been to her and himself was why, but he knew the answer, now.

Love.

He had just tasted love.

And so she was the reason that he could not die.

He couldn't explain it further than that. He really didn't understand it further than that. Just that his life had from then on really belonged to her. Her wish and whims had ruled his life, though she knew better than to hold him back from protecting the world in its time of need. She had let him go, knowing that his life's mission would never be complete until the world was safe once again. And because she loved him and wanted his happiness, she let him go.

To be hurt by the cruel slaps of fate.

He still didn't know how Cathy had done that. He knew that when he had lost his memory, and though he only had fuzzy memories of how that had happened, he knew that he had for a brief time, Cathy had gone a little insane. Overprotective and wild with grief, but still she had let him go with Quatre to fight.

How she did that, he simply couldn't understand. Because now he was faced with a similar problem.

Marriage.

What kind of a relationship was that, he asked himself almost incredulously. A simple promise of fidelity that seemed so flimsy in the modern world with divorces and breaks of vows that occurred with no second thought. It seemed like a prison, restricting one's movements by tying them down to another person. Sure, it happened with siblings and relatives all the time, but this person that you were legally and morally tied with would be an almost complete stranger compared to family members that one lived with their entire lives. And to add to that, one could potentially be stuck with this person for the rest of their life, 'till death do they part.

How could he possibly let the one person in the world that he knew loved him unconditionally for who he was, go into that state?

What if Catherine ended up hating something about Quatre that was unavoidable and impossible to change, he thought suddenly. She would end up hating him and having to live with him for the rest of her life, since she was a devout Catholic and would never divorce him. What if Quatre gets bored with Cathy and has an illicit affair after twenty years of marriage and she finds out? She would be heartbroken and devastated. She wouldn't leave him, though. It would stain his reputation forever. And she loves him too much to do that.

How could he possibly trust Quatre with his sister?

Sure, Quatre was his best friend and he would trust him with his life, but how did he know that Quatre would be able to take care of Catherine as he should? It was such a leap of faith.

He knew that Catherine would have strongly considered not marrying Quatre had Trowa protested it. The hasty glance towards him, after she had joyfully shouted yes after the fireworks had blown in the sky the bright "Will you marry me, Catherine Bloom?", had told him all he needed to know about the importance of his blessing on the engagement to her.

She loved Trowa, as much as he loved her and that would never change no matter what.

But he wasn't worried about that. He was worried about how she would be after she got married. And… honestly, he was afraid of his own feelings after she left. Of course, she would still be around and he could always visit her. But after her marriage, there would be a hole in his life, where she had once filled with her presence. A missing piece that he didn't think could ever be replaced.

Just thinking about it, made his eyes burn. The fiery white dots in the sky blurred, but he quickly blinked away hot tears before they could leak down his face. He slowed his breath and heartbeat that had suddenly quickened and concentrated on calming himself down.

All he could do, now, was enjoy the time he had left with Cathy and hope that the pain of her absence would not be as bad as he thought it would be, he thought determinedly, clearing his throat of unshed tear effects. His bones creaking as he stood, he stretched, trying to work out some of the more stubborn kinks in his neck and shake off his somewhat morose mood off. His eyes still burned a bit, so he rubbed them, warning himself to get more sleep and brushed off stray blades of grass from his clothes.

He glanced up at the stars one last time. A meteoroid brightly lit with the friction of the atmosphere passed over one particular constellation: Ursa Minor, the Little Dipper. It was as though someone, somewhere was smiling at something to come.

Smiling slightly back at the lone meteoroid, he settled his hands behind his head.

He turned around, his aching muscles protesting loudly, and figured he should get back to the trailer to get some shuteye before the next show tomorrow. As he turned he glimpsed the smallest of movements in the shadows of the night, indicating someone's presence behind him. His eyes narrowed suspiciously. It'd been a while since he'd had to worry about assassination attempts, but there was always that minuscule chance that someone still wanted him dead. And the dead of night seemed to be the perfect time for such a thing to occur.

When his eyes got used to the bright light coming from the opening of the tent, he could make out the figure standing there. To his half relief and half annoyance, it wasn't something to confirm his paranoia. A silhouette of a petite girl figure stood just outside of the main circus tent, in the shadows, gazing up at the stars. It was a good half an hour since the last show, so there shouldn't have been any of the crowd-goers left. The stragglers had all been shooed away, or so it seemed, all but one.

"Kid, this isn't public property. The show's over, now. Go home," he called to her gruffly. It was late and he didn't feel like being nice to kids who stayed behind to play pretend. Startled, the girl looked at Trowa, seeing to notice him for the first time.

"I know that the show's over. Has been for a while. Sorry, if I'm intruding, though," she replied softly, her voice low and wistful, not yet recovered from her silent contemplation of the stars. She tilted her head to the left, suddenly smiled and laughed a little. The sound caught his attention, so melodious and light. Something like wind chimes twinkling softly in the wind. "I guess I'll be on my way, now. Nice to've met you, though…" and with that she turned silently around and walked into the main tent, making no noise at all in her exit. Which solved the mystery of how he hadn't noticed her arrival in the first place.

Trowa blinked once in confusion and frowned. Well, that was different, he thought grumpily. Something new and wonderful to ponder on those sleepless nights o' his. Strangers who intrigued him by their laughs. Just when he needed some good, old-fashioned stability in life, Fate threw him a curve ball. What could he do now? He definitely wouldn't be able to sleep, not with two new things bothering him. Insomnia was inevitable. He sighed and thought that he might as well train for the new act that he'd been planning.It was a double performance that Cathy would partner him, but he wanted to lay it out to her with all of his part perfected.

Mentally shaping some final arrangements of his new act, he entered the equipment tent. He strode to the back of the small side-tent to get his training equipment and was so busy thinking to himself, that he almost didn't notice through a gap in the tent fold that the ringmaster talking to someone over in the main tent, his back turned to Trowa. The speaker was hindered from his sight.

Trowa, being obscured from their vision by the fold of the tent, couldn't help but overhear their conversation.

"… Well no, I've never done exactly this sort of thing before. At least not in that professional sense and definitely not in front of an audience, but I don't think that you should doubt my skill just because of that." It was that girl's voice again; it was persistent, now, having lost its dreamy quality. He blinked, slightly surprised at her presence in the arena (hadn't he just told her to leave?), but leaned forward to hear better the ringmaster's reply.

"I really don't doubt your skill, my dear, it's just that you have hardly any experience. How can I possibly tell how well you are at performing in front of a live audience?" The manager's voice sounded impatient as if he had been over that point a matter of times and it still hadn't gotten through to the girl.

"Just because I've never actually performed any of these things in front of a live audience before, doesn't mean that I haven't done other things." Her voice took on an offended manner, as if insulted. "My references-"

"Your references don't mean a damned thing." The manager was beginning to sound curt, almost rude. "They're too unreliable. This group that you say you started from- well, it's not-"

"It's not what?! Are you implying that I'm unqualified or that my performance group was untrained?!" she demanded, her voice suddenly sounding more than a little dangerous.

"I've made my decision and nothing you can say or do will change that."

"Wanna bet?"

And with a short running start she made a quick leap into the air and Trowa got his first good look at her face. Then, time seemed to freeze. 

The girl could not possibly have been more than sixteen or so. She was definitely not a classic beauty like Relena Peacecraft, but she couldn't possibly be classified as ugly. There was something evasively attractive in her face that just couldn't be called ugly. Her most striking feature was the unusual color of her eyes, a dark indigo that were reminiscent of European royalty and were rather familiar in an unexplainable way. They seemed out of place amidst the rest of her exotic looks, with her sun-kissed skin and almond shaped eyes. She had high, slashing cheekbones and a small, delicate bone structure. Her straight black hair wasn't tied back and reached only her shoulders at an angle. She wore a loose black sweatshirt and jeans with plain running sneakers.

The distinct rebounding spring sound of a rope being yanked and tightened echoed in the empty tent, causing Trowa to jerk from his deliberation of the girl and turn his gaze up to her. He looked up just in time to see her hoist herself onto the wire, where she had caught the wire from her jump. Apparently, the girl had just leapt onto the high wire from the ground.

Without help.

It took a second for it to sink into his brain, but when it did he blinked in astonishment, his mouth falling open. He wasn't the only one to think that the feat was amazing, because when he glanced to see what the manager was thinking of this. An awed expression, identical to his, was stuck on the ringmaster's face.

It certainly wasn't normal for a person to suddenly, out of nowhere, make an almost impossible jump onto a twenty feet high wire. The girl smiled and bowed extravagantly, exaggerating for dramatic effect. She straightened and three small daggers appeared in her hand, apparently taken from her sleeves. After ostentatiously waving them around, she bent backward and flipped, landing on the wire again on a perfectly balanced position on her feet. One dagger had disappeared from her hands. Trowa glanced over at the target in the middle of the ring and did a double take. The dagger had landed precisely in the bulls-eye. 

He heard the ringmaster gasp and in the corner of his eye saw him take a step back in astonishment. But the girl wasn't finished with her act yet. Flipping again in the air, landing on her right hand, she hurled her second dagger. It settled right above the first dagger, the tip lodged exactly next to the first. Then the girl bowed again and lithely leapt off the high wire, doing a complicated sort of flip in the air. Trowa counted four twists, a direction change, and something else that looked familiar. To top it off, she alighted perfectly on the ground and pointed to the target. The third dagger was embedded neatly between the first two.

The girl grinned and stared at the ringmaster, as if she were asking for his approval. He just nodded, still awestruck and cleared his throat. He attempted a business demeanor, but it was overcome with his stunned antics.

"Uh… you can sign the papers tomorrow morning. I'll introduce you to the rest of the troupe then, too. When our starter acrobat, uh… Catherine, yes, Catherine. When she- er- leaves, um … you can replace her, as you suggested before. Even if it is only a temporary situation, you're better than no one. I guess you can… p-practice now. Tell Catherine about the situation, she'll show you the ropes and she'll feed you and give you a bed in her trailer and- uh... At least, for the time being."

"Don't worry, sir. I have a place to stay, for tonight at least. I'll see you tomorrow, then," the girl's voice was cheerful now, smugly so. The ringmaster left, shaking his head, dazed. The girl then turned to Trowa and smiled broadly, having completely dropped her dreamy air from before.

"Well, hello way over there. How'd you like my little act?" Trowa smirked, not really surprised that she had noticed him; she seemed pretty sharp for just a kid. And he wasn't really being too inconspicuous, anyway.

"Hmm. You didn't' mention your name." When he merely skirted her frivolous question, she flipped her black locks over her shoulder emotionlessly and waited. Trowa stepped out from his darkened corner.

A self-assured, amused, and altogether too superior smile lit her face. Her hands went to her hips as she unconsciously took a confident and assertive posture. "You first, stargazer."

"Trowa. Trowa Barton." Although, his voice was collected and detached as always, he folded his arms over his chest, in a defensive stance.

At his name, her smile evaporated and she lifted an eyebrow, her voice sounding heavy and weary, older than the high young tone gave it right to be. "The famous Trowa Barton, hero of the battle between the colonies and Earth. Or at least one of the heroes. Isn't it just my lucky night to meet celebrities?" There was a beat of tense silence, after which she whirled around without another word and strode over to the target to retrieve her daggers.

He couldn't stop the frown that sprang to his face at her less than enthusiastic reaction at his identity.

It was strange that this girl out of the thousands of people, who'd seen him over the years, would recognize his name and identify him so quickly. It had been many years since the war and most people had forgotten the heroic deeds that had been performed by the Gundams and their pilots. Those heroic deeds that had won the freedom and peace of the colonies and Earth. This girl couldn't have been more than a kid when the war was still raging, though. How could she know about the war in such a way? His eyes narrowed, but didn't comment about the irregularity.

"You could say that. And your name?" he asked, refusing to follow her and was forced to raise his soft, low voice so that she could hear him from across the tent.

"Cala. I'm known as Cala, among my friends." She started to pull out her daggers; she did it with ease and regularity, as if she had done it many times before. Trowa sighed and barely refrained from rolling his eyes, deciding that he was too mature (or at least too old) for that, while finally walking over to help her. Cala showed no reaction to his decision to help. He absently tugged lightly on one of the daggers, but surprisingly it was pretty deeply embedded into the target and he had to pull harder on the dagger to extract it. Cala's lips twitched then curved in a small smile of amusement as she accepted the dagger from him.

"Now, what exactly were you doing spying on me, Gundam pilot?" Trowa frowned again at the emphasis on his entitlement and the mild distaste that he sensed when she'd said it, though he was sure that she'd said it to lighten the mood.

"I wasn't spying." His neutral tone taking on a defensive edge.

"Sure, then what were you doing?" she asked, her voice was doubtful, but her eyes twinkled teasingly, seeming to have forgotten her mysterious resentment towards him.

"I was getting a better look at you. I couldn't see your face too clearly during our initial encounter." His voice was surlier than ever, but his expression maintained the same blandness.

"Hmm. So, what's so interesting about me?" Trowa looked sharply at Cala. She held up her hands like she was surrendering and grinned.

"Educated guess, that's all. I figured that if someone were spying on me, they'd have thought me to be interesting. Telepathy and psychic mind-reading aren't part of my repertoire of accomplishments in life."

He looked dubious, as insane as it sounded, but cautiously replied anyway. "I just think that you're pretty young to runaway from home and join the circus." Cala laughed that laugh of hers in a reply, but Trowa just waited, knowing that she would answer him.

"Isn't everyone too young to runaway from their home? And exactly how old do you think I am?" she asked with an amused smile blooming slowly on her face again, though he could detect a very faint touch of irony behind the smile.

"At least sixteen, probably around seventeen at most, but definitely not much older." He studied her features again, this time he was closer up and could see her much more clearly. Cala laughed again clearly entertained by what he's said.

"I'm really very flattered, but I turn twenty-two in a few months." He blinked in surprise.

"Oh, you look a lot younger than that." His voice trailed off in embarrassment. Wasn't he supposed to be the expert in evaluating people' physical and mental states?

"That can be a good thing and a bad thing at the same time." She grinned again. And through his shame, he couldn't help but respond mutually to her bright and sunny attitude.

"Where did you learn how to throw daggers like that? Since you've been asking all the questions so far, I think I'm entitled to at least one question of my own," he said with uncharacteristic humor, the corners of his lips twitching in a suppressed smile.

"Oh, it's just a little hobby I like to do when I'm bored. Do you like horses?" she asked, combing a hand through her hair and, smile still locked, lifted her chin slightly as if to challenge him about the topic change.

"Yes, I do like horses and you're avoiding answering my question." His eyebrows rose, as he responded to the challenge, although his neutral tone remained.

"I know." She pivoted to face the tent opening, pursed her lips and whistled loudly. Then he forgot all about the topic-change. A beautiful snow-white Arabian stallion gracefully trotted into the tent and fearlessly approached Trowa. He shook his magnificent head in greeting and nuzzled Trowa's shirt, taking his scent. Trowa almost took a step back out of surprise, but quickly recovered and rubbed the stallion's large soft nose.

"His name's Blizzard. Actually, his full name's The Horrible Snow Blizzard, but I had to shorten it," Cala informed him offhandedly. She shot the horse a crooked grin and stepped up to the affectionate animal. Blizzard immediately turned his attention from Trowa to his mistress.

"Why did you have to shorten it?" he asked. His eyes lit with amusement at the thought of the overbearing girl- er woman submitting to a mere horse.

"Because he won't answer to his full name." She fired a quick, dirty look at Trowa before she returned to spoiling her horse with her undivided attention. The silent glance obviously warning him not to laugh.

"And why's that?" The question was irresistible. He leaned back to get a better look at her, fighting to control his obvious amusement from seeping into his voice.

"Ask him. I have no idea. I just follow _his _orders, not the other way around." She smirked in wry amusement, then sobered quickly. "Can you look after him, for me? Tomorrow after meeting the rest of the troupe I have to go to an important conference with someone. Trust me, I tried canceling, rescheduling, and everything else. It's unavoidable. So, I have to leave and I want to leave him here. He hates traveling the untraditional way on cars and trailers. Don't ask me why, he just does." She held up her hands in resignation and shrugged. Blizzard quickly switched alliances to gain an advantage, bothering Trowa, looking for treats in the pockets of his jeans.

"Hmm." His tone was indecisive as he weighed the positives and negatives of doing the favor for Cala. Would it make a difference later on? Why should he, when Cala annoyed him so much? Blizzard butted him gently in the head, urging Trowa to hurry up, and his defenses crumbled at the show of affection. He nodded reluctantly in agreement and Cala grinned. He was getting a vague idea why the overbearing woman shirked to a 'mere horse'.

"I'd better be going, now. It's getting late." She whistled again, while walking up to a mounting block set a couple yards away. Blizzard instantly left Trowa's side, trotting in Cala's direction, and stopping directly in front of the mounting block, smugly reached it before his mistress did. She made a face and hurried to step on the block to mount him. Then, she exited the tent, giving a small wave to Trowa. Trowa shook his head and headed for the trailer he shared with Catherine, wondering just what he had gotten himself into.

~*~*~

That morning afterwards…

The ringmaster called the entire troupe together for a meeting. Cala stood silently beside the ringmaster, while he introduced her. He said that she had signed on for a contract for about a year as a temporary replacement for Catherine. She was fully trained and experienced, he informed everyone, so there was no need for additional training to the relief of everyone. She gave a small smile to the troupe when he pushed her forward, a smile that none the less reached her eyes and she was welcomed into the group without second thought. When she mysteriously disappeared into thin air after the dismissal from the meeting no one seemed to take note of her absence.

No one, except Trowa.

Trowa looked unobtrusively around the bustling area, while walking with his sister, trying not to act curious about her whereabouts. That didn't fool Catherine. Nothing ever did.

"Well, she seems very nice. Doesn't she, Trowa?" Catherine inquired her brother; her violet eyes were attempting to pin down his searching ones.

"Hmm." He was distracted, his eyes still wandering.

"I don't know whether she'll be able to take the full responsibility of being in the limelight, though. I'm rather surprised that the manager took her on. What do you think, Trowa?" she asked, still trying to catch his full attention.

"Hmm, couldn't tell." He still remained distracted.

"Sure. Then, why were you out so late last night? I know that you weren't training that whole entire time. You wouldn't have been spying on a certain girl who happened to be in the main tent at that moment, would you?" Trowa started and jerked his head, surprised, and finally focused fully on his sister.

"How would you know that?" One eyebrow flew up and his eyes narrowed.

"Hmm. Logical deduction, along with some women's intuition… and of course a little help from the manager," his sister replied innocently, flipping her shiny rust colored curls out of her face.

"Ah." Trowa's mouth twitched, but he remained undisturbed.

Her brow creased in a frown. Trowa was so hopelessly stubborn. He refused to reveal his feelings. Although he applied this to every other aspect of his life, in this particular case it frustrated Catherine. She only wanted the best for him, but she couldn't help him when he would not acknowledge what was best for him. She had pledged it long ago, to protect him and ensure his happiness. Always. Of course, when he had found her subtly setting him up on select dates with boring women that she found suitable, he had forced her to promise to stay out of his love life. Not that he ever had one. He refused to associate with women besides her, at least before now. He found them particularly annoying and irritating, though the feelings weren't mutual for women's standpoints. No, for some odd reason, he was taking a special interest in her 'replacement'. And Catherine just had to know for sure that what he was feeling was true… for his sake and Cala's.

"Trowa, just admit it," Catherine blurted out her demand, breaking down, completely exasperated, and guiltlessly ignoring her forced promise to stay out of Trowa's love life.

"Admit what, Cathy?" His face remained blank and his tone passive, as they always were.

"Oh, never mind! You've always been too stubborn for your own good. She's tending that horse of hers behind the main tent." With that Catherine turned and left Trowa to wonder just how much his sister knew about his thoughts and feelings. 

He shrugged it off after a moment and strolled behind the main tent. Just before Cala actually came into sight, Trowa could hear her voice talking to Blizzard, her tone casual and dreamy.

"… I know you're right, Blizz. It's just, well… Okay, okay. The chances of him actually knowing that I'm a- hold on." Her dreamy voice became suddenly on guard, tense. "Is someone there?" Trowa stepped out into the open and Cala visibly relaxed.

"Haven't you realized that spying on a person is very rude?" she said to him, mock scolding. Trowa just gave a small smile in reply and headed over to Blizzard. Cala was brushing his spotless, glossy coat, while confiding in the horse. Trowa picked up another brush from a box on the ground and began to assist her.

"So what was the purpose of your coming here?" she queried, lifting an eyebrow, but turning back to her work.

"I… really don't know." Cala whipped her head around in surprise, and saw Trowa's perplexed countenance at his own unknown reason.

"Well, at least you're honest." Then she added after a pause, "I think subconsciously you find me interesting, you just have no idea why." She tilted her head slightly to the left after she disbursed a short scrutiny.

"Maybe." A comfortable silence followed his reply, both people of which absently tending the complacent horse.

"Are you going to keep that promise you made to me, last night? When you promised to take care of Blizzard for me while I'm gone." She didn't look up, keeping her act of preoccupation up, pausing only slightly in her rhythmic brushing.

"Yes, I never break promises." He patted the stallion lightly on his flanks. Blizzard's only response was to swat flies away with his tail.

"Great. I have to get going now, so thanks again." She nonchalantly laid down the brush and meticulously surveyed Trowa, as if she were searching for false intentions.

"If you leave him here, then how are you going to make that trip?" he asked indifferently, not surprised at her suspicion of him.

"I have other modes of transportation." A flicker of belligerence appeared in her cerulean eyes. She turned and traipsed gracefully over to the trees surrounding the tent. Trowa noticed for the first time that she wasn't wearing the baggy sweater ensemble, like she had the day before. Wearing a blue V-neck shirt, that matched her eyes perfectly, and khaki trousers with a tailored black blazer, he could tell that Cala was definitely not a sixteen-year-old kid. She had the slender curves of a mature female, not an adolescent girl. She bent over the brush and carefully straightened something. Trowa walked over to see that she held in her hands a shiny dark blue Yamaha motorcycle. He simply raised his eyebrows in response.

"Well, I'll see you before the evening show starts. Tell the ringmaster not to worry about me." She strapped a plain black helmet onto her head and pulling the motorcycle out of the brush, mounted it. Tugging down opaque goggles, she ignited the engine. And after revving the bike for a moment, she pulled a pop a wheelie and was soon out of sight. Trowa heard an abrupt snort and a cold nose shoved in his ear. Surprised, he spun around to find an annoyed Blizzard glaring at him.

It was obvious that the look signified the horse's opinion in that since Cala was gone, Trowa would have to replace her as caretaker, at least temporarily. Trowa smirked; realizing exactly what Cala meant about whom was master in that situation, and returned to grooming the horse.

* **Author's Notes** *

hey y'all!

This is my first chapter revised (because I looked back at it and it was really really bad, so yeah). Well, here it is. Any questions or comments, feel free to email me or jst REVIEW!! Moving on.. (PS the next few chapters are from way back when and not as well written, so try to be gentle :)

-w.r (white rabbit)


	3. Deja Vu

Disclaimer: okay, I don't own Trowa or any of the other original GW characters, I can't help that.

Copyright: my story, my characters (apart from the originals), so if u wanna use 'em, please just ask… not to scare u or anything… J anyway, just enjoy! (and I know that this title is spelled wrong, but I don't take French!)

Warning: mild swearing here, thus the PG13 rating…

Deja' Vu

The smooth hum of the engine softened as Cala pulled up to an iron-gate that led to a sleek, large building. The dark glass reflected the mid-day sunlight. The manicured landscape, edging the curved building, framed the ideal depiction of the perfect office headquarters for market leading, multibillion dollar-valued companies.

Almost a Quatre Raberba Winner setting.

A stern guard stepped out of the small stone pavilion to the side of the gate, and she readily flashed him her ID. After a quick glance at the picture and her face, the guard immediately admitted her through with a polite nod, the gate opening obligingly. When she'd parked the motorcycle, unbuckled her helmet and settled everything in place, she entered the building. The cool, conditioned air of the lobby, surrounded her. A fair-haired secretary sat at a large, granite-countered front desk, busily answering phones while typing on a computer. When the woman noticed Cala, she smiled warmly and mouthed, 'Go right up', returning her attention to her work immediately after.

She entered an elevator that took her slowly to the top story. The soft melody, with the smooth sounds of the piano, in the elevator car made her curl her lips in a small smile. Cala stepped out of the elevator platform, only shortly viewing the open corridors, lit by the bright sunshine from wide windows here and there.

"Where on Earth have you been?!" called a strained voice from behind. She whirled around to see a stressed looking middle-aged man gone to seed and a handsome, more energetic, younger man rushing towards her.

"Ms. Abassi! You should really stop running off, like that. There's important business you must attend to," scolded the older, shorter man breathlessly, stopping and panting from the run. He had developed new wrinkle lines in his pale face. His hairline was starting to recede and the remaining light brown hair was in slight disarray. His dark brown eyes were worrisome.

"Not only that, but you scared all of us. I thought you'd been hurt or something had happened." The young man with almost black hair was about her age and his astonishing hazel-hinted eyes were genuinely concerned. He had darker skin than the other older man did and he obviously had an Arabian heritage. He lowered his head a fraction to meet Cala's eyes; he was only about an inch or two taller than she was.

"I left you and Azim notes explaining everything, though." Cala raised an eyebrow, but otherwise seemed amused. A middle-aged Arabian man storming through the sun-filled halls interrupted the group with a mighty holler that echoed.

"Calista Abassi! I'd like to hear you give a _good_ explanation for this one!" She flinched and cringed only once, and smiled brightly as she turned to face the looming danger head on.

"Azim, how nice to see you. Fine day, isn't it? How's life?" she said cheerfully, ignoring his shouts of rage, tilting her head upward to look Azim in the face. He was towering over her, well above six feet.

"Fine for me, but in a very short time it's not going to be very pleasant for you." Cala never faltered her sunny smile at his harsh snarl and completely ignored his not-so-subtle threat.

"I explained everything in my note, Azim. Just calm down." She softened her voice into a soothing tone, trying to at least quiet him. 

"I will _not_ calm down! And you did _not_ explain anything in your damned note! All you wrote was that you would be absent from our lives for a time. No details of where you were or when you would be back. You could have been hurt and we wouldn't know where to find you!" Through his shouting she could hear that his voice was rough with worry, as if he had been screaming and shouting for quite some time.

"Azim, Azim, I'm a big girl and can take care of myself. I'm just fine." Calista tried to allay Azim, but to no avail. Fortunately, they were interrupted before he could completely blow his top.

"Excuse me, but Ms. Abassi, there is a lot of unfinished business that should be taken care of. What were you thinking, leaving Khan Enterprises all alone, without your supervision? Even if it was only temporary, you still shouldn't have done it. A day to the business world is enough for a stock market crash. The economy could crumble around our ears. Diligence in your obligations and responsibilities is important. Especially since you have recently become the owner, along with your responsibility as CEO. There are many important business deals and obligations that could not be carried out, because your approval was needed and you were not there…" He seemed to have run out of breath and Calista swiftly took advantage of that.

"First of all, Sachs, dear, it's now called Abassi Enterprises like it was originally named, before Uncle Hafiz took over and changed the name. Second of all, I promoted you to vice president and chief supervisor thus allowing you to handle most of the 'important business' that was upheld because of me. I'm sure that my responsibilities did not suffer too much while I was gone for about a day and a half," she pointed out, very diplomatically, as not to hurt Sachs's feelings.

"The change of the company name was something I was not authorized to oversee, so it is one of my many examples of things that only you, as CEO and owner, alone, can supervise," he sniffed sulkily, though it was obvious that he was pleased by her absolute confidence in him. "Also, Quatre Raberba Winner called this morning saying that he will be able to make the scheduled appointment, today, after all," he added as an afterthought.

"And I bet you've been fretting about this ever since then, which has made you totally and undeniably tense right about now." She grinned ironically, before muttering softly to herself, "Dammit, I thought Winner canceled the meeting."

"He did and now he's just changed it." The younger man from before input into the conversation, obviously disliking being excluded.

"Allah help deliver us from indecisive businessmen," said Calista irritably and started striding quickly toward her office, the others following her lead. "I was hoping to make a final check on the company's condition review and maybe tie up some loose ends. I'll have to deal with this now, instead. Okay, here's the game plan. Sachs, you deal with the rest of the company at the moment, handling the condition summary and those lists of complaints that we get everyday. You know the usual. Azim, we'll finish our discussion later. Now is certainly not the time. Please bring the WM file to my office," she said professionally, naturally taking charge.

"I'll need to explain our little… predicament to Master Quatre, after all," she said, the phrase more to herself than to Azim. After she had apparently finished her orders, Sachs and Azim started walking back to the elevator, planning to obey her instructions to the word.

"Hold on. I want you both to meet me back in my office after my meeting with Winner." She dismissed them again with the flick of her wrist and turned to the young man, still at her side.

"Sorry about ignoring you, Cemal. I hate to admit it, but Sachs is right about this. Leaving, if only for a little while, _does_ take its toll on the workload," said Calista, smiling charmingly and Cemal's expression loosened.

"It's okay, Cala. I know you were just taking care of business matters." He bestows a warm smile upon her.

"Well, when I meet with Winner I would like to talk to him in private, so that means you scatter and find something else to do while I chat with him. Okay?" Her transition to a stern business manner stunned him into a moment's stupor. After the statement's meaning sunk in, Cemal began to protest, but she rapidly interrupted him. "This is something private, Cemal. And it's very important to me." Her gaze was serious and he scowled in response.

"Dammit, Cala. Why can't you let me in on this secret?" His frustration was tangible.

"Because, Cemal. Azim is the only one who knows about _all _of my secrets and it'll stay like that. We've had this conversation before." She sounded overly patient, but the dangerous glitter in her brine-edged eyes contradicted her serene manner.

"You're letting Winner know about this one. Why can't I?!" The suppressed anger in his voice was particularly apparent to the preoccupied CEO beside him.

"Cemal-_bhai_, please." She twisted her head, letting her intense regal blue eyes gazing into his frustrated hazel ones for a moment. And he conceded, though a shadow crossed over his expression at her use of his 'brotherly' nickname.

"All right, all right," he muttered reluctantly, accepting her choice. "But if anything happens just give a shout and I'll be in there faster than you can imagine." Calista giggled and smiled widely.

"Cemal, I'll be just fine and I can take care of myself. I've done it before," she said, a laugh audible in her voice.

"Well… it's just in case." He seemed to be slightly embarrassed. She just grinned and stopped in front of a pair of wide, thick doors decorated in the Arabian style, deeply engraved with carvings of praises to Allah and swirls and designs symbolizing loyalty, honesty, etc. Swinging it open, she stepped into a small vestibule with sliding, glass paneled French doors that led into the office. Cemal, jokingly, slid one of the doors open for her and performed a formal bow, waiting for her to enter. She chuckled gleefully again and entered with a regal nod. 

Calista's office was large and open. Wide and tall windows allowed the beautiful afternoon sun to light the office. A large oak desk sat in the corner of the room; the sun's glare almost completely blocking it from view. It was a corner office with windows on both sides and skylights everywhere. Jewel colors dominated everything and Muslim decorations, as well as European decorations, (of her heritage) were placed everywhere. A few chairs rested before the huge desk, while in the middle of the room two couches and arrangements of armchairs and assortments of divans were centered around a rather large, oval glass and cherry wood coffee table. 

Calista sighed wearily and flopped onto one of the comfortable looking couches. Cemal hesitated, trying to decide whether it was proper to sit next to her when the brisk click of the door closing again sounded. Azim had just entered with the 'top secret' files and carrying a silver tea server tray, full of scrumptious cakes and cookies as well as a small pot of tea, in his hands. Azim strode over to Calista and assumed the position beside her, setting down the tray onto the table. Cemal frowned and sighed frustratingly. Azim began to speak to Calista, ignoring Cemal, and Cemal walked resignedly over to a chair across from the couch and sat.

"Cala, I brought those files here. What are you going to do with them?" he said impatiently, tapping the mysterious files in an old brown accordion folder stamped with 'top secret', and marked WM, on the nearby coffee table and Cala poured, thoroughly composed, a cup of tea into a cup, offering it to Cemal.

"Well, Azim you know what's in there. You tell me what you think I'm going to do," she replied flippantly, almost sarcastically, rolling her eyes. Cemal leaned over and accepted the cup from her small hands.

"Calista, it's not the time to fool around. Winner could totally misinterpret you and then the whole company your uncle and father built could go down-" Cemal suddenly ceased his attempt at lecturing when he noticed the look of hurt anguish cross onto Calista's face. She trembled slightly, an inner battle warring inside of her. Azim glared angrily at him.

"Oh, sorry, Cala- I didn't mean…" he trailed off helplessly, looking away ashamed and Azim motioned for him to leave, but Calista glanced up, seeing him, and shook her head. He wasn't purposely insensitive, only careless.

"I'm fine, Azim. Cemal, it's okay. It's just I guess that I'm not totally over Uncle Hafiz's… and my father's passing away has always been a sore spot on me. Anyway, don't mind me, go on." Suddenly, there was a knock on the door and she was interrupted. "Come in." 

The door slowly slid open and in stepped Quatre Raberba Winner.

~*~*~

"Am I interrupting anything, Ms. Calista, I presume?" Quatre R. Winner asked the staring threesome politely. Calista's eyes lit up, playfully, forgetting all about the previous conversation in her delight of seeing Quatre. Cemal, noting the twinkle in her eyes, began to glare ferociously at Quatre.

"Nope, you're not interrupting a thing, Master Quatre. At least nothing interesting. Come right in. I'll kick these two out. Azim, we'll finish this discussion later. Cemal, you're welcome to stay outside if you'd like, but don't try eavesdropping. The outer doors are soundproof." Azim nodded and trooped out indifferently, dragging an avert Cemal along. 

"Now onto business. Do you have any idea why I wanted to meet with you in the first place?" The famously smooth, suave Quatre Winner was immediately taken aback at Calista's bluntness. She smiled, deeply amused at his discomfort.

"Well… Uh- not really, no."

"Ah. Then I'll have to start at the beginning, I guess. I apologize for being so direct. It's a bad habit of mine. Would you like some refreshments or tea?" She grinned mischievously. Quatre relaxed. The woman was well mannered, just very teasing. He had never met a woman like that. Sure, he knew a few brusque businessmen, but he'd never met a businesswoman like that. In fact, there really were no businesswomen, besides this one. The wives of businessmen usually excluded themselves from the business world, or their husbands did. It was considered somewhat improper to have your wife dictate to you decisions of your career. Quatre had never understood that, but then again, he'd never had a wife. 

Women were admitted into politics, Prime Minister Relena Peacecraft Yui being a perfect and living example, but they weren't exactly common. Hafiz Khan was just about the only man Quatre had known that would let a woman run his company. Surprising, since most men wouldn't trust a woman with anything important, and that Hafiz's company was his life. Hafiz must've really loved the girl.

"No, but thank you for the offer. I bet you learned it from your father. Your directness, that is. Hafiz always got right to the point."

"Well, I might have learned it from him, but he's not my father. I'm his niece. He had no children with my aunt, but he still refused to marry another woman just to sire an heir. You know, he always says-" she cut herself off abruptly and looked away. She continued haltingly, attempting to act as if nothing were wrong. "I mean, he always said that why should he marry again when he loved Aunt Sharma, even though the _Koran_ allows it. And that if worst came to worst, he always had me as a 'back up' heir. Saying so, just to get me all riled up, of course." Quatre sat next to her and patted her shoulder, sympathetically.

"Hafiz Khan was a good man. Definitely a shrewd businessman, though, frankly to my family's somewhat disadvantage. My father often told me about the times he beat him at poker." He laughed. "My father always said that Hafiz had to have cheated because no man could have ever had a streak of luck that wide."

"I don't know about that, but I know Uncle Hafiz hated losing." She gave a small laugh too, then cleared her throat and went on to business. "By the way, do you remember the first time that I met you?"

"Hmm. No, sorry. I didn't think I've ever met you before now." Quatre wondered briefly just how a meeting with each other had to do with anything. Though, with Calista's bluntness and 'habit' of being to the point it probably did.

"You're wrong and you have a fairly bad memory, if I may be so bold. I met you when your father and Uncle Hafiz were at a private meeting together. You were playing catch outside with a baseball and I wanted to play." 

__

Flashback to a hot summer day, years ago. Quatre was about eight and Calista was about a year or two younger. It was a hot summer day and because of immense boredom Quatre was playing a game of catch with a baseball and mitt on the grassy lawn of a huge, palace-like mansion. A younger Calista, in desert gypsy clothes, approached him from exiting the mansion, a little shyly.

"Hello. I'm C'lista, what's your name?" Quatre smiled kindly, his eyes sweeping over her plain, worn clothes and replied politely.

"I'm Quatre, Master Quatre."

"Can I play, Mast'a Quat'a?" she said, not able to pronounce his name quite right because of a missing front tooth. He hesitated, not wanting to let a little gypsy girl play with him, afraid of embarrassment. His face suddenly lit up with an idea.

"I'll let you play with me, but only if you can catch this ball." And he throws it high up into the air. Calista gasps, but swiftly runs backward to catch it. Not seeing where she was going, she tripped into an ornamental fountain in the middle of the lawn. An alarmed Quatre quickly ran over to her and helped her out of the water. She spluttered, but came out all right. When she stopped spluttering she held up the baseball clutched in her hand.

Comprehension dawned on Quatre's face and he blushed a little. "Now, I remember. You wanted to play with me and I said that you couldn't."

"Nope, you just tried to avoid playing with an annoying little girl. Of course you failed. The usual occurrence with me." She smirked amusedly. "And of course, I forgave you. But this is all just sidetracking. The whole point is that at the meeting your father and my uncle called they were discussing something important. Guess what that something is."

"I have no idea," said Quatre honestly.

"My uncle told me about it in his will. Right after the lawyer announced me official heir to his half of the company, thus making me president of the company, he announced that I was betrothed. Here's the evidence. Now, guess who I'm betrothed to." She flipped open the accordion folder and set the legal documents into his hands. In it was the marriage agreement with the signatures of witnesses, her uncle and his father. Quatre's eyes widened at the evidence and at the implication of whom Calista was betrothed to.

"It can't… It can't possibly have been me?"

"It was you. It's a good thing Uncle Hafiz is dead or I would have murdered him right then and there."

"But- I can't-" Calista held up her hand to interrupt his nervous babbling.

"I know. You're engaged to Catherine Bloom, the famous dagger thrower. Don't worry. I've got it figured out with my lawyers. The whole point of the betrothal was a consolidation between our two companies. My company does not have an oil industry as part of the enterprise and my uncle wanted to become partners with your father. Therefore, adding a strong oil industry to our company and increasing the strength in your company's weaker assets. A mutual benefit. But your father seemed to be worried about your- welfare, so suggested a blood union." She paused to smirk cynically.

"Since my uncle didn't have any children he suggested me as a likely candidate and your father agreed. I don't have Khan blood since Uncle Hafiz is an uncle-in-law, but my father's sister married my uncle. And anyway the company was originally my father's. But that's not the point. My lawyers found a loophole out of the marriage agreement. Since, the main purpose of the agreement was to integrate our companies and to marry you off; all we have to do is combine the companies. Then, we're all set. That is since you're going to be married soon, I don't have to marry you, just as long as you're married." Quatre, who had been listening quite intently to the woman's professional business talk, sighed with obvious relief.

"Thank Allah. I don't think that it's really all that simple, though." An exasperated raised eyebrow broke Calista's professional mask and Quatre backed off the subject. "Do I have to be married before the actual merging?"

She frowned a little. "I'm not sure. I'll ask my lawyers about it. They haven't drawn up all the papers that need to be signed. After I sign them I'll send them over to your headquarters for your signature. Oh, by the way. You don't mind the name being 'Abassi-Winner Incorporated Enterprises', do you? I've turned the company name back to the original." Quatre stared incredulously into Calista's face, surprised, and saw the humor that had suddenly lit up her dark blue eyes. He grinned and played along.

"Not really. Why are you asking?"

"Oh, nothing really. It's just that your father and Uncle Hafiz had been arguing about the name for a while. You know, about whose name would come first, as a matter of priority and importance? After the lawyers told me this, I started laughing hysterically. I just found it extremely funny. What about you, Master Quatre?" She parodied a solemn manner, cracking another grin from him.

"Well, it does seem very funny. How did they finally agree?" He arched an eyebrow.

"Well, a witness suggested alphabetical order and they finally agreed. But then they started arguing about which type of alphabetical order. Whether to have it backward alphabetical order or to have it proper alphabetical order." She started going into peals of giggles, Quatre following her suit. She tossed her head back and gave a laugh, that twinkling laugh that had intrigued Trowa. Quatre raised his eyebrows and stared at her. Calista shook her hair out of her eyes and stared back at Quatre. The black strands looked alive in the sunlight.

"Is something wrong, Master Quatre?" she asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

"No, it's just you remind me very strongly of someone. But just in a different sort of way. It's hard to explain. And why do you keep calling me 'Master Quatre'? I'm hardly your equal, much less your master." At that Calista smiled appreciatively.

"I'm glad you noticed. It was my nickname for you. At the time when I met you, you thought I was on a much lower class than you and insisted I call you that. So, now I have a habit of doing so." Wrinkling her nose she laughed the laugh again.

"Oh, I don't entirely remember that." He seemed puzzled.

"Of course, you don't. It was a really long time ago and I would hardly remember it, myself. It's just that I've inherited one of those photographic memories, so I do remember back then. I can still remember the look on your face when your father introduced me to you." She chuckled, mischievously. "Oh, by the way, who do I remind you of? I'm just curious."

"Well, you remind me of a woman who was once just a girl. She went by the name of Relena, back then. Of course, now she's all grown up, but you remind me a little of the younger her. And obviously, you're very different. When you laugh, though, the resemblance is quite obvious." Calista's eyes widened and her face paled several shades. She quickly looked anywhere but at Quatre and became stiflingly formal.

"I guess, you'd better be going. There are a lot of things you must need to attend to. I'll escort you out." She stood abruptly, turning and leaving the office, sliding the French doors and swinging the heavy Arabian doors open. But keeping the door wide open for Quatre to walk through. A very perplexed Quatre hesitated before following her. By the time he had walked out of the office, intending to apologize for whatever offense that he had unknowingly committed, Calista was out of sight and Cemal was standing in her stead, waiting for him. Cemal was glaring malevolently at Quatre, seemingly very unhappy about something.

"Master Winner, Ms. Abassi has instructed me to escort you out of the building. Please follow me." It seemed to be very difficult for Cemal not to be hostile. He whirled and started marching away. Quatre raised an eyebrow, but shrugged and followed.

After Quatre had gone down the elevator with Cemal, the outer door to Calista's office swung silently shut again. Calista stood in a tiny alcove in the hallway that had been concealed by the open door. The look on her face was pensive and melancholic. She opened the doors to her office and entered again. Collapsing on a couch, she closes her eyes. It was almost as if she were sleeping but when a knock on the door interrupted the hum of the air conditioning she answered dully.

"Come in." Azim walked in and closed the door behind him. He walked over to Calista and sat down, pouring himself a cup of tea.

"Cala, I know you're not going to tell me what just happened in here, but I'll take a guess. Winner mentioned the Peacecraft woman, didn't he?" Calista couldn't meet his direct gaze, but replied devoid of emotion.

"It's Prime Minister Relena Peacecraft Yui, now. And anyway, if you must know, he did."

"Oh, Cala. I've known you your whole life and I know you're not a coward. You've always been very brave your entire life. But, now you're afraid of talking to one person. I've seen you face down ten full-grown men and not even blink. Just her name scares you. Why can't you just talk to her? She'll understand the situation." The older man rested a comforting hand on her shoulder in a paternal gesture.

"I know that she will. She'll have to, given the circumstances. It's just… that I'm afraid of her reaction. She might have to believe it, but she doesn't have to accept it." She finally looked at Azim, her eyes begging for understanding and sympathy. Azim sighed sadly and patted Calista's shoulder. A small and only a little forced smile appeared on her face. She stood and smoothed the wrinkles in her slacks.

"You're right, Azim. I _should_ talk to her. And I promise I will. That is if I happen to see her around. Which I probably will, since the circus troupe I've joined up with _does_ seem to travel to the city, where she lives, pretty often," she said with a gleam in her eyes. Azim jumped up, horrified, and almost spilling the full cup of tea that he'd been nursing absently in his left hand.

"The circus?! You can't possibly have meant the circus?! In your letter you said you were looking for another job, not the circus?! I thought all your crazy escapades were over with, already! Why do you need a job?! Owning Abassi Enterprises is a job!" A knock on the door interrupted his dumbfounded raving.

"Come in," Calista called demurely and Sachs entered.

"Ms. Abassi, what would you like to discuss with me?" 

"I was just explaining that particular subject to Azim. Please sit down, Sachs, this might come as a shock and I certainly wouldn't want to have you fall and hurt yourself." She gestured to a couch and tugged Azim back down beside her.

"Now, kindly, explain what you mean, Calista." Azim struggled to keep his voice down.

"If you really want me to, Azim. The fact of the matter is that I've just accepted a job opening as an acrobat and dagger thrower in a traveling circus troupe. This means that since they move around a bit. You two will have to take charge for a little while. I'll return every now and then to take care of the big things. Don't worry, this is only temporary. You know what it's for, Azim, so don't start complaining again." A genuine, merry glint in her eyes annoyed Azim, and Sachs looked utterly stunned.

"But… but, Ms. Abassi-" His bemused protest was ignored by everyone else in the room.

"Don't you start whining, Sachs," she said absently, standing and dusting off stray lint on her trousers. "This is very important. I'll be back before you know it." She straightened purposefully and strode out; leaving Sachs and Azim still more confounded. After a moment of shock passed, the two men looked at each other: Sachs, opening and closing his mouth speechlessly, and Azim, grimacing unpleasantly. It was the latter of the two that spoke first.

"I'm _not_ going to be the one to tell Cemal this." Sachs made a face at Azim's grim statement. Then, Calista stuck her head back into the doorway.

"By the way, don't tell Cemal until I'm gone. Chances are, he'll do something stupid and hurt himself," she added as an afterthought and disappeared again.

~*~*~

Meanwhile back at the circus…

"What do you mean she had to leave?! It's late! The show's going to start in half an hour! She just can't do that! The only other person with the audacity to leave like that was you and you're the exception!" The ringmaster was blowing his top at Trowa and Catherine, pacing back and forth like a caged lion. Both Trowa and Catherine had had to explain to him why Cala wasn't there and he had not reacted pleasantly in the least. A sudden knock on the door interrupted the outraged ringmaster.

"Come on in, it's open," Catherine called when the ringmaster refused to answer. The door swung open and Cala stepped in.

"Sorry about leaving earlier. Can I speak to Catherine, for a moment? Someone told me that she was here." The ringmaster's eyes widened and he seemed to be about to explode. Cala was unperturbed by the intensity of his stare. She glanced at Catherine and tossed her a wide smile. Catherine smiled automatically in return.

"Since she's here, I'll just borrow her for a second. Be right back." She beckoned to Catherine. "By the way, you don't mind if I add Blizzard as part of the act, do you?"

"What? Why would you do that? We already have horses in the show. We don't need another one." The anger had dissipated from the ringmaster's expression, displaced by confusion.

"You'll see." She winked mischievously, as she and Catherine stepped out, leaving the ringmaster and Trowa were slightly baffled. After a second of silence, Trowa shrugged it off and left with the ringmaster to prepare for the upcoming show.

Catherine and Cala had entered Catherine's trailer when Catherine decided to finally initiate conversation. "What did you need to talk to me about?" she asked, going directly to the point, deciding that Cala wasn't one to adore tact. To her surprise, Cala blushed slightly.

"Well, I have no costume for doing this sort of thing. I've never performed this act in public before, so I have no idea what I should wear. It's slightly embarrassing, but…" she trailed off, looking pleadingly. Catherine smiled.

"It's all right. I grew up here, so when a newcomer arrives I usually help them out with this sort of thing. Don't worry about it. I've got an old costume that could fit you. I'll modify it a bit. Do you like dresses?"

"Not really. It restricts movement altogether too much." 

"I see. I figured that you didn't. We'll have to do some re-modifying and quick if you want it before the start of the next show." The two women started getting busy, one finding scissors, the other digging up a sewing machine.

Trowa and the ringmaster waited fretfully outside of the main tent by the performer entrance, watching the seats inside fill up. Or at least the ringmaster was waiting fretfully. He was dressed in his performance attire and pacing around and around in circles. Trowa, in his clown suit and half domino mask, was perfectly poised.

"What's taking them so long? They're supposed to be the stars. We can't start without them. And what exactly was Cala doing this morning. She wasn't supposed to leave. Coming back only half an hour before a show starts isn't exactly the greatest action for a beginner either."

"Calm down. She got here, didn't she? She'll be fine. You saw what she could do before and she's great at it. Cathy's coming soon, so you don't have to worry about her either," stated Trowa in his calm and unemotional way. The return of the typical Trowa was at hand, for the moment in the least. Catherine entered, in her pretty attire of daring dagger thrower and astonishing acrobat, smiling broadly.

"See. Nothing to worry about," Trowa remarked, coolly, still normally, but hiding subtle relief.

"Hello, you two. May I present our newest performer, the Constellation." Cala strolled in. She wore a dark blue tunic with glittering white rhinestones in the shape of a star on the front and back. It was paired with black leggings and soft black ballet shoes. Both of which hugged her slender and just slightly curved form and made Trowa lift an eyebrow, questioningly. He glanced at his sister who was smiling smugly, at some secret victory. Suddenly, the lights went out in the main tent, signaling the ringmaster's cue.

"I've got to go. If you think that's all right Catherine, I'll trust your judgment." He turned and jogged into the tent. Trowa looked toward Cala again, but she was gone. He looked at his sister and she smiled, smugly, again. She shook her head. Trowa sighed and stared back into the main tent. 

About five minutes into the beginning of the show, Cala appeared again with Blizzard by her side. She flashed a smile at Catherine, totally ignoring Trowa. Her attitude completely offset Trowa, but his cue, for his shared performance with Catherine, came up before he can question the situation. Trowa's whole performance was excellent, better than usual. It even received a standing ovation from the crowd. It was as if he was trying to impress someone, specifically someone who wasn't in the audience. After his exit, Catherine stayed behind for a moment to introduce Cala.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to introduce our newest member. She is a great acrobat and a wonderful dagger thrower. And here is the Constellation!"

The spotlight glided upward to the high wire. Standing on the thin line up above was Cala. With all black dress she seemed like a shadow, but her glowing blue eyes, that were enhanced by the dark clothing, ensured everyone that she was very real. The excitement of the crowd increased as a hush fell. Cala simply stood there, unmoving, and stared back at the audience. Trowa could feel the panic rising in his throat. When the suspense of it all peaked (and Trowa could feel the ringmaster begin to go into a fit of hysterics), Cala smiled smugly and confidently tossed the hair out of her eyes. She bowed, still smiling, and ostentatiously extracted her three daggers.

Someone had dragged out a target and she flipped, throwing the first dagger onto the bulls-eye of the target. She repeated the act that she had demonstrated to the ringmaster the night before, the crowd oohing and ahhing to her talent and precision. However, this time as she jumped off of the high wire in her grand finale of twists and flips, she whistled loudly. Before the echo of the whistle could disappear, Blizzard entered the arena from the sidelines, where he'd been waiting patiently and cantered towards center of the ring. She landed on his back standing just before he had reached the center. As soon as she had stepped foot on his back, the horse stopped dead, ending up in the center of the arena. The crowd went wild and started whistling and cheering, everyone giving an enthusiastic standing ovation. Her smug smile unchecked, she blew a kiss to the audience, bowed again and the spotlight went out. The crowd kept cheering after, dying down only a little, until the lights came back on.

When the spotlight returned, however, a clown car was parked in her place. Some of the crowd groaned, but soon they were all laughing at the silly stunts the clowns pulled. Back in the side tent, Cala rested her head on Blizzard's neck. Her eyes shut tightly, only opening when Trowa approached her, dressed back in regular attire.

"Hey there, stargazer. What's going on? Did I miss a cue or something?" She gave him a weak smile.

"No, I was just worried if you were tired. You look like you are." His face was the usual bland expression, but his voice revealed concern.

"Well, I must admit that I am exhausted. I think it's worth it though, the exhilaration from the crowd is just…" she trailed off, shaking her head, and looking for the right word.

"Irreplaceable?" He half-smiled, his eyes full of understanding.

"Yep. That's it. I haven't experienced that for a long time." Trowa walked nonchalantly over to Blizzard and began to stroke him.

"So, what do you do when you're not throwing daggers off the high wire?" he asked casually as he scratched behind Blizzard's ear, making the horse toss his head with pleasure.

"Why ask? It's really boring. I can't take it usually. I used to do something really thrilling, but after my uncle passed away…" she trailed off again and stared downward, avoiding eye contact.

"He meant a lot to you." Trowa, completely sympathetic, rested his hands on her thin shoulders. His deep emerald eyes were tender as he stared at Cala's sad face.

"Yes, yes he did mean a lot to me. He was like a second father to me. Well, I had to take his workplace." She acknowledged his comforting gesture by meeting his eyes.

"Ah. Family tradition?" Raising an eyebrow.

"Sort of. I'm a girl, so I sort of broke family tradition. It's usually the eldest boy that takes over, but I'm the only one left so I had to." Cala smirked sardonically.

"Don't feel too bad. I have no real family, only Cathy." His face smoothing into passiveness again.

"Well, Catherine is wonderful. You shouldn't take her for granted." It was her turn to raise an eyebrow, making a subtle implication of an accusation.

"I've realized that's what I've been doing for the past few years. Now that she's leaving the troupe I guess I've realized just how much she means to me." He admitted to the accusation with no obvious shame, but his eyes clouded with guilt.

She saw it and sympathized. "Well, don't worry. That happens to everyone. It even happened to me." Cala tried a self-mocking smile. "Before my uncle died I guess I figured that he'd always be there and I never really paid attention to him. Of course, I spoke to him and visited him a lot, but after I left home the closeness between us got lost somewhere along the way of me growing up. And after my aunt died… It was really all my fault though. I know that he understood that I had to live my own life and be my own person, but I should have tried harder… He was like a second father to me, my world when I was younger, and I just took him for granted. Forgot about him like last year's shoes.

And then when he left… well, it suddenly hit me that I'll never be able to talk to him again or… anything. Anything at all. That's what makes me so upset whenever anyone else or I mention him. Come to think of it, you're the only person that I've been able to talk to about my uncle without me starting to breakdown." Cala looked into Trowa's eyes, wondering just why she was talking to a complete stranger about her life. The things that she never told anyone before, not even Azim…

"Er- hope I'm not interrupting something here." Both Cala and Trowa snapped their heads toward the voice. 

Catherine, standing awkwardly to the side of them, was grinning at the uncomfortable looks on their faces. Cala flushed dark red and quickly looked away. Trowa reddened only faintly and mumbled something about nosy sisters. Suddenly, a disgruntled snort exploded in their ears and they all jumped back in surprise. Blizzard was not happy with the focus shift and he showed it. Catherine bursted out laughing, breaking the awkward moment. Cala joined in with her twinkling laugh and Trowa smiled one of his rare, genuine smiles.

All three people and the one horse walked back to Catherine's trailer, talking quietly about that night's performance. As they reached their destination, Cala took Blizzard's halter and hesitantly turned to Catherine.

"Catherine, I should put Blizzard with the other horses. The ringmaster-"

"The manager asked me to take you in and I agreed. Don't you worry, kid. You can bunk with us, right Trowa?"

"Hmm…" His face remained blankly smooth.

"Okay, thanks. I'll be right back." She whirled around and led Blizzard away to the stable tent. Catherine turned to Trowa, gently demanding an explanation.

"Now, Trowa. Tell me what's going on."

"There's nothing going on, Cathy." He gave his normal reply with a sense of distraction in his tone of voice.

"Trowa, don't lie." She frowned deeply. Catherine would never let anyone, much less the people most important to her, tell her an outright lie.

"I'm not lying. There's nothing going on," he replied seriously, giving his sister his full attention.

"Okay, let me rephrase my question, then. What's going on between you and Cala?" Catherine asked, sighing, but remaining patient.

"Absolutely nothing, sis." He made a brief pause before continuing, "I think I'll go to bed now. Good night." Trowa walked to the trailer and quietly entered. Catherine rolled her eyes and followed him, close to disgusted with Trowa. 

That night, after everything was settled (Cala being placed in an extra cabin), Catherine called her future husband. Quatre appeared on the screen and seemed distracted, not bothering to even glance at his caller.

"Winner Residence."

"Hello, Quaty." Quatre's head jerked up at the soft saying of his nickname and he smiled boyishly.

"Hey, princess. How was your day?"

"Well, it was okay. The manager's found a replacement for my show spot in the troupe, since I'll be leaving soon. He says that it's only temporary, but he'll find a more permanent one later after the winter season, when there's more time. And that it's better than nothing, with the marriage just around the corner," she said enthusiastically.

"Oh, that's great. I'm glad that we can finally get all the details now. Those wedding coordinators have been bugging me for the longest time. Thank Allah, they're finally going to get off my back now." Catherine smiled at his feigned exasperation. The 'wedding coordinators' were the entire harem of his sisters. She knew that he truly loved them and that they would annoy him for the fun of it. All of the sisters had ganged up on Catherine and pleaded to plan the wedding, even though the ceremony was to be held in the famous Catholic Church, Notre` Dame Cathedral.

Quatre frowned a moment and raked a hand through his golden-colored locks pensively. He knew that Catherine would want to know. She had practically ordered him to inform her of everything that was occurring in his life, including his business and family. So… he'd probably tell her, no matter how reluctant he felt about it. She'd find out sooner or later. Both his company and the Abassi Enterprises were very big businesses and the media would certainly publicize the merge as much as possible, especially with his upcoming wedding. And she would want to hear it from him, not from the local news report.

"I've got the strangest news for you. I met with the owner of the company otherwise known as Khan Enterprises, today. And…" He looked away for a moment, feeling awkward.

"And?" She blinked in confusion.

"Well, my father set up a consolidation with that company and betrothed me to the former owner's niece, who inherited the company," he continued hesitantly.

"Oh, no! What happened?" Her alarm was apparent in both voice and face.

"Well, she said that she found a loophole in the agreement. All I have to do is sign the consolidation contracts and marry you." Quatre gave her a lopsided grin, hoping that she would not take everything the wrong way. 

"So everything is settled?" Catherine smiled, giving him a dirty look for scaring her, and sighing with relief.

"Well, almost settled, but the bottom line is that I can definitely marry you. That is if you were worried or something," he replied, still grinning at her obvious scare.

"That's a load off of my back. You had me there for a moment. I could have fainted with fright."

"You- afraid? The one and only fearless Catherine?" He pretended shock, teasing his bride-to-be.

"Hey! Whoever said that I was fearless?" She lifted her chin, tossing her rusty red curls as she issued her challenge.

"Me, of course." He gave her a smug smile and suddenly remembered something. "By the way, I just want to confirm our dinner date tomorrow."

"At seven o' clock sharp. Don't worry, I wouldn't miss it for the world. Oh, and Quatre?" Catherine's bright purple-tinted eyes that had lit up at the thought of a date with her fiancé suddenly darkened with worry.

"Yes?" He stared curiously at his Cathy's sudden concern.

"Trowa's been acting… strangely," she said, struggling for the right words.

"What do you mean, 'strangely'?" Quatre's smooth brow furrowed slightly at the mention of his best friend's 'strange behavior'.

"Well, you know how the ringmaster got a replacement? The replacement makes Trowa act oddly. He's really quiet and then again he's not. I'm not sure how to explain it." The worry lines on her face deepened.

"Isn't Trowa always quiet?" he asked jokingly, trying to ease her worry a bit.

"Well, I mean strangely quiet," she said, slightly irritated by his light-heartedness.

"It's really worrying you, isn't it?" he asked, sounding very concerned. Obviously it was distressing Cathy and she didn't become paranoid over anything that wasn't serious. There had to be something wrong.

"He's my little brother, Quatre. I worry about him." Her face softened at his worried tone.

"I'm sure he's fine, Cathy. Just to stop your worrying I'll talk to him. Okay?" He kept his voice steady and calm to reassure Catherine. But his expression didn't let on that he too was starting to wonder what was happening with Trowa. Trowa was the constant factor in their ever-changing world. He was like a shadow, silent yet always there, quietly watching over everyone. It was a shock to hear that something was happening to Trowa. 

But he didn't want Cathy to worry anymore than she was.

"Thank you, Quatre." 

"You're welcome. Now, get some beauty rest. I don't want you to fall asleep on our little dinner date." Catherine made a face at him and he grinned.

"All right. Good night, Quaty."

"Sweet dreams, Cathy." She blew a kiss and tuned the communication unit off. Relying on his reassuring attitude to calm herself, she slept well that night.

Quatre stayed awake long after she bid him goodnight. In his hotel suite, he looked out of the balcony's open doors. A cool breeze swept his sun-toned hair into his sky-colored eyes and he absently brushed it away.

There were so many things that flew through his mind. There was the original worry about the odd behavior of his new partner and the new worry about Trowa. Normally, Cathy did not concern herself too much over Trowa. He could take care of himself and she only intervened when she felt that he needed sisterly help. And although he had insisted that whatever she needed to talk about, she could talk to him (like she had to him). He wanted to always be there for her.

To serve and protect her.

He had vowed to himself that he would never again let her be hurt in any shape or form. Even by him. Especially not from him. He had blundered their relationship enough and now that things were finally going smoothly, he needed to ensure that he didn't mess up again. He might not be able to fix it.

He knew that no matter what, Cathy had to come first. She was the priority over any and everything else. The merging of companies could wait until he was sure that Cathy was not hurt.

__

What is making Cathy so anxious about Trowa? And what does this replacement of hers have to do with anything at all? Maybe Cathy and I worry too much. There are so many things that can go wrong at this moment, so soon before the wedding. I don't want to end up with another fiasco like the last time…

* **Author's Notes** *

Well, this is the second chapter to my little fic (it's more of an really unedited version), I don't think it's that bad… but hey, I'm not known for being right all the time… anways, tell me what u think. I liked the little twist I put in there and I give so many nice little hints of what's going to come. Boy, do I like playing with their lives… and no I'm not going to hurt them THAT badly…. Maybe… u'll just hafta read and find out.

There are a lot of interesting little conflicts going on all at once, and I know that it can get pretty confusing, but don't worry, I'll put it all together eventually (wink). If u haven't already figured it out, Cala's Muslim. I know that there's the US's attack on terrorists in Muslim Afghanistan, but this has almost nothing to do w/ me making her Muslim. I created my fic LONG before all this started (it wouldn't be so far along if I hadn't), so don't look too deep into that. I made her so, b/c, well u'll see… (u wouldn't want me to ruin the story would u?)

Anyways, read and review please!! If u wanna know what exactly is going on and why Quatre hopes he's not going to mess up AGAIN, then email me (I'll get around to posting my e-address sometime), it's a long story (and I actually didn't write it), so I don't want to explain it all here. I hafta go study now, boy do I hate school work…

-white rabbit


	4. Revelations

Disclaimer: no, I don't own GW, if I did, I would be pretty dang rich

Warning: some minor cussing again, consider urself warned

Revelations

The next morning Trowa was tending the circus animals, thinking. His thoughts inevitably wandered onto the only two problems in his life at the moment. 

Cathy and Cala.

Just what was the matter with Cathy? She kept asking him if there was anything the matter. What could possibly be wrong? It was her wedding date that drew closer by the second, not his. After a moment's consideration, he figured that Cathy was probably shifting all her anxiety and worry onto him. He frowned. As long as they didn't kill each other in the process, he supposed that it was harmless enough.

But it was still annoying the hell out of him.

And, to add to it all, Cala had disappeared again.

They were moving on soon, in a week or so. Cathy had specifically told Cala at breakfast. She'd reacted pretty unhappily when she'd learned where the troupe was stopping first after the Earth route. Then she'd left, without telling anyone about where she was going. He'd assumed that she was tending Blizzard, but that couldn't possibly take over half an hour and she'd been gone for over two hours. _I'd better go look for her_, he thought grimly_. Or else she'll be late for the show again. And I definitely do _not_ feel like dealing with an angry manager again._

Trowa sighed and stretched. He glanced around and wondered where he should start. A faint whinny to Trowa's left alerted him of Blizzard's location. Following his instincts he proceeded to find the horse, walking carefully through the trees and bushes behind the camp. If he found the horse he might just find the horse's mistress. Stepping into a clearing, he caught sight of Blizzard grazing lazily in the middle of it. The white stallion inclined his head to glance at Trowa and gave him a cool, indifferent look. Then returned to grazing.

He couldn't resist a quick smirk at the horse's bored reaction before skimming his gaze around the clearing. Blizzard's mysterious mistress lay on her stomach nearby amid a clutter of scattered electronics and discarded wires. To his surprise, she was talking into a portable communication unit. The caller's face was fuzzy with static from the nearby trees and Trowa quickly ducked behind a tall maple, to stay out of sight. And happened to overhear part of the conversation…

"You should've warned us beforehand, Cala. This mission is so dangerous, I don't want you to get yourself hurt or-" an unfamiliar, distressed voice came through the static jammed connection, making Trowa's bottle green eyes narrow suspiciously.

"Oh, Cemal. I'll be just fine. You worry too much. Azim knows all about my mission and he knows I'll be safe. I am perfectly capable of protecting myself. And I don't have to explain anything to you," she said, her voice patient as though she had explained this several times.

"I don't worry too much. I'm just concerned over your welfare. And why can you explain this to Azim and not me?" the unfamiliar _male_ voice said, sounding sulky.

"Because Azim and I have been through a lot together. He's always protected me, as I've always protected him. Don't start with the possessive bit again, Cemal. You don't own me. Azim doesn't own me. No one owns me. I can do as I like and I shouldn't have to explain it to anyone, unless I choose to," she replied sharply, her voice was full of rebuke and rebellion.

"I know that, Cala. I'm sorry about implying that I own you. I know I don't. I'm just so worried that you'll get hurt." The stranger's voice was apologetic and just a little hurt.

"It's all right. But you need to stop calling me, there's a chance that someone will hear and figure something out. You know the routine, I'll contact you, if I need to. My mission won't take longer than a couple months or so. I'll return to HQ every now and then to check up on everything, but I'll usually ask you, Azim or Sachs to meet up with me somewhere else and report updates," she said earnestly. "Don't worry, so much. You're developing new wrinkles in your face, already," she added teasingly. "And tell Azim not to go too crazy. Over and out." He heard the deliberate click of a switch as Cala terminated the connection.

The grass in the clearing swished softly as Cala stood up and walked over to her horse. Blizzard neighed softly, reassuringly. Trowa clearly heard Cala heave an irritated sigh.

"Will he ever give it up, Blizz?" 

The horse snorted disbelievingly in reply.

"You're right. No chance in hell. Damn the obstinacy in that man." Trowa could hear the smile in her voice.

A deep frown formed, unknowingly, on his face. He pulled away from the oak tree and strode swiftly away from the clearing. His foot snapped a twig as he strode away, but he didn't notice. The unnatural sound, however, caught Cala's attention and she turned toward the source.

"Who's there? Come out, whoever you are!" she called after Trowa's distant form. She waited a moment, completely still and shrugged, but she couldn't get rid of the uneasy feeling that was left. She glanced at the white stallion and stared, puzzled, at him. His whisky brown eyes stared back at her smugly. She lifted an eyebrow, querying, but it was obvious that she wouldn't get a satisfactory answer and left off her confusion.

~*~*~

Trowa heard Cala call something in the distance, but he didn't bother to stop and listen. Walking away from the situation seemed to be the only way to sort the jumble of thought that were racing through his head. The emotions that he had suppressed long ago were thrashing in his soul, refusing to be locked out forever, yet it would take more than that to shake Trowa Barton.

He shook his head violently to clear the whirling feelings and thoughts.

Pausing by a large tree, close to the circus tents, he rested his hand against the solid wood. In one smooth, efficient motion he sprang up into the tree. Landing on a thick branch, he plopped down and sighed gustily. He laid his head on the thick trunk, his smooth light oak-colored hair blending in perfectly against the rough bark.

The tumble of ideas and thoughts slowed, remarkably, and he could finally identify what he was feeling and thinking.

Just what is Cala up to? What did she mean: 'mission'? Is she a spy for some type of a conspiracy or coup de' tat? A ridiculous voice in his head asked suspiciously.

Against who? replied the voice of reason._ There's no one in real position of power these days. What would be the point? I don't feel any hidden motives._

And… she seems so innocent. 

Of course, she seems innocent, Trowa. She looks like a teenager! Yet she's almost as old as you are. For all you know, she could be plotting to kill you and Cathy, both! She's a complete stranger. You shouldn't trust her.

But I do. How is that? I don't even know her and I trust her. Why?

Because there's something so familiar about her. Like you've met her before, and just not realized it. The type aura and power that she carries about her. Just the underlying strength that she generates. A comforting sort of strength, like a sense of security. So indomitable, impenetrable, so… different from any other women that you've ever met.

How odd.

He was so deep in his thought that he didn't notice his sister's approach. Catherine's soft vivid violet eyes stared curiously at the young man sitting comfortably on the sturdy tree branch. His dark emerald hued eyes staring into the only-slightly-cloudy sky. His dirt-brown hair concealing his left eye, as usual. He was in such a relaxed state, with one of his legs lazily hanging down from the branch and his hands folded behind his head, that Catherine was reluctant to disturb his reverie.

"Knock, knock. Is anyone home?" she called softly. Trowa was forcefully kicked out of his daydreaming. Startled, he almost fell off the branch, but threw out his hands, balancing himself in the nick of time.

"Hn. It's only you. You almost knocked me right off the tree branch," Trowa said grumpily, clutching the branch with both hands to steady himself. Catherine chuckled mischievously.

"Well, dear brother, you should pay more attention to your surroundings. What're you up to? Shouldn't you be practicing for the show, not tree climbing?" she asked guilelessly, curving her mouth into a nocuous smile.

"And you're practicing so hard, Cathy," he retorted, snorting dubiously and throwing a stray acorn at his sister. She ducked agilely and stuck her tongue out at him.

"At least get out of that tree. I already have to look up at you, but you're not usually this tall." Catherine smiled and smoothed a hand over the rough bark of the tree.

"I think I'll stay up here for a while." He lifted his head and gazed through the branches of the tree. The lucent sunlight twinkled through the gaps in the green leaves. The veins in the leaves were illuminated and the feeling that the sight left in him was peaceful and calm. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, laying his head against the trunk of the tree again.

Catherine watched as her brother visibly relaxed. Only the slightest of creases formed on her forehead. She was worried about him. He didn't usually do that sort of thing, daydreaming in the middle of the day. Almost all of his recent actions were odd, out of place, out of character. When a newcomer came, Trowa would stay his silent self and greet him or her in his own unique way. But with Cala's sudden appearance, his usual routine had changed immensely. He seemed so distracted, and the root of the problem was apparently Cala. She just couldn't understand why Cala had such a dramatic effect on Trowa. Catherine was also unsure as to whether she liked the change or not.

When Trowa didn't give her any more of a response, Catherine left him sitting pensively in the tree. He obviously wanted to be left alone for a while and she decided to oblige him.

As she walked away from Trowa, a tear slid down her pale cheek and onto the ground.

Catherine quickly brushed her tearstained cheek with the back of her hand and hurried away. Unconsciously, her hands clenched into fists and she took a few deep breaths to calm herself down. Pausing, she felt a sudden slight pain in the palms of her hands. She gasped in surprise and lifted her hands from her sides. Unfurling her fingers from their tight balls Catherine saw that there were four small cuts in each callused palm from where her smooth fingernails had pierced them.

Hot, sticky, red blood swelled from the cut, and she quickly closed her fingers over her palms again. Catherine gulped and took another steadying breath. She shut her eyes and then opened them again.

"What am I doing?" she asked herself softly, shaking her head, "I'm going crazy. Calm down, Catherine."

"Yes, I really think you should, Cathy," replied a familiar voice from the tree line. Catherine whirled around and her hands went to her throat in a defensive stance. Light glinting off of his golden crown of hair and his eyes worried, Quatre stood a few feet ahead of her. She had not noticed his approach and heaved a sigh with relief.

"Quatre! You startled me. What are you doing here?" she exclaimed as she quickly lowered her hands. Quatre approached her, cautiously as one would to a frightened animal.

"I was worried about you. You sounded so upset last night that I decided to come see if you were all right." He laid one hand on her shoulder and the other on the top of her head. Lifting her chin to stare into his sky blue eyes, she could feel herself falling more profoundly in love with the man whom she had already pledged her heart and life to.

"Oh, Quatre. You really shouldn't have. I know you're very busy with the merging of your company and everything. Taking this much time away for me is… I just don't know what to say." Her eyes sparkled with happiness and a depth of love that secretly terrified her.

Quatre slid his hand down her head, smoothing her ruffled burnished copper-colored curls in a loving gesture. "Cathy, I love you. That's worth it to drop anything if you're in danger or hurt."

"But I'm not in danger. And I'm not hurt. I'm just fine. I can take care of myself, but thank you so much for caring." Playfully, she framed her hands around his face, flinching only once at the dull pain that shot through her palms. Noticing, Quatre frowned and gently lifted her hands from his face, turning them palm-upward to inspect them.

"What happened?" asked Quatre in a troubled voice, as he smoothed his thumbs over her work-roughed fingers.

"Oh, I'm fine, Quatre. It's just a couple cuts," she said, swallowing nervously. She licked her dry lips and drew a shuddering breath as he lifted her hands to his face. Gently, he pressed his mouth lightly against the two callused and chapped palms.

Her hands defined her. Her willingness to work for her goals and her emotional and physical strength. His thumb traced the lines on the pale tapering fingers lovingly. They were fit enough for a queen to him. The two hands could fit anywhere. On a ballet floor, the long, beautiful fingers curving above the russet curls or grasping the ropes of a trapeze swing, almost on top of the world.

"All right. I won't force you to tell me, Cathy," he consented almost sadly and loosened his grip on her. She gently slid her hands out of his and tucked them into her pockets. 

An amazing amount of guilt welled up inside of her, but she told herself that Quatre would never be able to understand Trowa's and her relationship. Although he had many, many sisters, he was the youngest of all of them and the only male heir to an empire of wealth and industry. He had always been given whatever he wanted, whatever whim, need, and desire. He had never suffered the types of typical and unusual grievances that she had endured. He had not been dubbed worthless and an orphan when he was young, never had to harden his heart to the sufferings of others to survive. Both of which she had been submitted through. Of course, Trowa had come along and helped her through it all.

That Quatre also did not have. 

Although he had close bonds to his sisters, he would never share the closeness that Trowa and she had shared. The small inside jokes and funny, embarrassing stories about each other. Even those little 'family' arguments that the troupe manager sometimes participated in. Everything that people with siblings can brag about in later years and groan about in present ones. Quatre's family had special moments, Catherine was sure, but never anything like the water gun fights that she put Trowa through when the heat simmered outside. Those little, seemingly unimportant times, that warms a person's heart up at the memory and brightens a glum face.

Things that she was sure that Quatre couldn't possibly ever have.

Quatre's family was too successful and dignified to do that sort of juvenile thing. Even if they had time to do so. Each sister had built her own legacy and was just as successful as Quatre in her own way, therefore taking up much of her free time to spend with her family.

When she realized she was staring into Quatre's eyes with a peculiar mix of regret and nostalgic contentment expression on her face she abruptly broke off eye contact and blushed scarlet. The light baritone chuckling of Quatre made her smile and her blush deepened. Quatre bent over her embarrassed face and kissed the soft, pink cheek.

"That was for smiling. I love your smile. You should smile more often," he whispered in her ear and pulled back again. "Well, I've rearranged my schedule to spend the day with you. I'll even be here to watch your evening performance. I want to see this replacement of yours. I highly doubt that this girl will be able to live up to the 'famous Catherine Bloom' reputation, but it ought to be interesting to watch," he said, an amused twinkle in his eyes.

"I think she's outdone my reputation, Quatre, dear. Plus, I'm all washed up. She'll be taking over soon, thank goodness. I need to start arranging the wedding, along with those 'wedding coordinators' of yours. I won't be able to perform at the same time arrange our wedding. It's too much!" she exclaimed jubilantly, obviously pleased that her she could spend the rest of the sunny, clear day with her one true love.

"Ah, since we're getting onto the subject. We need to go ring hunting soon, copper-curls Cathy," he said, tugging a curly strand of her hair. She blinked, astounded at his word.

"But I don't need a ring, you said that we were going to use your parent's wedding rings for ours. What do I need another one for?"

"I want to give you two rings, one engagement ring and one wedding ring. It's proper, isn't it? Something old and something new, something borrowed and something blue. I heard that somewhere," he said, grinning at her confusion and with absolute delight at having made her happy. "My parent's wedding rings will be something old, they are really heirlooms given down in each generation to the eldest son. We can find the other something's later." Quatre seemed utterly delighted by this old wedding ritual, causing Catherine to crack a smile. Then, it hit her: she was going _shopping_…

"Oh, I forgot all about that! Well, if we're going to leave, we'd better leave now! Shopping needs to start early, this will take _all_ day," she said, her eyes brightening immensely as she grabbed his hand and started pulling him toward the circus grounds.

"You mean that we have to go shopping now?! I didn't think that-" said Quatre, stunned. "I thought we were just going to spend the day together!"

"We are spending the day together and ring shopping," she said excitedly.

"But… but…" he trailed off helplessly as his beloved fiancée dragged him towards his shiny, siren-red Porsche convertible.

"Oh, and Quatre? You don't mind if I drive, right? I've always wanted to," she added as an afterthought, depositing him in front of the car and turning her pleading eyes towards him. A low laugh burst out from behind the couple and they both whirled around, startled.

Trowa stood there, his arms crossed and an unfamiliar twinkle in his emerald eyes. He seemed to be trying very hard to suppress any more spontaneous laughter, but it was turning him a tinge pink. He'd been watching them the whole entire time, his sister's shrieks of delight catching his attention and bringing him there. He'd seen Catherine pulling Quatre and her steady stream of excited babbling.

"As properly behaved as the princess you're treated as, I see, Cathy. Quatre, I think it's more of Cathy reigning over you when you treat her like that. More of her demanding to be treated like the spoiled brat that she is," he said teasingly, a hint of a grin twitching the corners of his mouth.

"Oh, like you have a Porsche that you can just lend to me every day, Trowa," she retorted, sticking her tongue out at him. "And I don't lord over Quatre." She wagged her free hand behind her ear and stuck her tongue out again in an immature taunting gesture. Trowa strode over to her and pinched her nose in response.

"Sure, maybe if you keep telling yourself that it can come true. Here," he said, handing over a folded pink flyer from out of his jeans pocket. "It might be a good way to spend the rest of the day together, I'm sure that was your plan, anyway." 

Catherine unfolded the paper and read in big bold letters:

Carnival!

Lots of FUN for families

And Kids of All Ages!

Goldfish scooping,

Ring tossing,

Fun Rides,

And Lots more!

Only in town

For ONE month!

"Hey! That's a great idea! I say we go," said Quatre eagerly, obviously dying for an excuse to get away from the tedious task of ring shopping and to spend some quality time with his fiancée. He was thanking every one of his lucky stars for having such a perceptive best friend and soon to be brother-in-law. They both knew that if Catherine was allowed free reign in ring culling, not only would she take forever, but she would also become so caught up in the spirit of things that she would most likely forget all about Quatre. And Quatre had something important to talk to her about…

"That's really not a bad idea. We'll go ring shopping another time I suppose," agreed Catherine, just slightly crestfallen.

"Sis, there's always going to be other times to go ring shopping. It's a little late to start, too," said Trowa, taking Quatre's hints of reluctance into mind. "I'm sure he'll be much happier spending some quality time with you."

"Okay, you're right, as usual," she said smiling and brightening at Trowa's usual unarguable logic, "But I'm still going to drive."

"I guess I can't win every battle. All right, all right. You can drive. Just as long as I don't end up in the hospital," Quatre said, grinning resignedly.

"Ah! I take that as an insult. I'll show you, you little-" she said in mock outrage and pinched his cheeks hard.

"Ouch! I hardly think that that was necessary," he said indignantly, rubbing his reddened cheeks.

"Enough flirting already. Get on your way," said Trowa, shooing his hands and pushing them gently towards the Porsche. "Have a good time, you two. And don't stay out too late, I don't like waiting up too long."

"But what about the performance, Trowa? I have to come back for that," said Catherine, confused. The wind flapped at the flyer in her fist and blew her hair back.

"Cala will take over. She _is _your replacement. I thought that the Manager told you already. You don't have to be here always. Maybe a couple evening shows but definitely none of the afternoon ones. You're free to enjoy the whole day with your fiancé," he said warmly, though Catherine couldn't tell what her younger brother was truly feeling. Quatre's reaction, however, was very enthusiastic.

"Great! That means we can go straight from the carnival to dinner. Don't worry, Cathy. It's not formal, but I have something important I want to talk to you about," he said, guiding her to the car and depositing the key in her hand. "You can start driving now. I'll see you later, Trowa," he threw back over his shoulder, along with silently mouthed thanks. Trowa gave them his mysterious smile and waved to the red car slowly backing out of the gravel parking area. Cathy was obviously enjoying herself immensely with the driving and a terrified look on Quatre's face gave his feelings away immediately.

Trowa hummed a nameless tune absently as he walked back to the main tent. He might as well dispense of his time in a useful way. After this performance they were moving on, on to yet another city along the Earth route that they normally took. However, the first stop that they were going to make in space, after the Earth route (a couple months from now), was altogether too familiar. It was the L2 colony, where Duo and Hilde lived with their two children, Maximilian and Mathilde. He hadn't seen them in a while and he would really enjoy seeing them again.

It was wonderful to see Cathy and Quatre so happy together. Cathy was already getting on Quatre's case about ring shopping. That was the sign that she really loved him. She wouldn't bother anyone like that unless she really cared about him/her. The only person that Trowa actually knew for a fact that Cathy did it to was he, himself. And no man on Earth or in space would be able to take that kind of aggravation (the famous Catherine Bloom's stubbornness taken into mind) unless they really loved her, which showed Quatre's true feelings for Trowa's dear sister. They were really in love.

That fact made him happy and sad at the same time. Happy that Quatre had realized what was in his heart. Sad that his big sister was really going to be gone. But it was life and he would have to get over it. He was sure going to miss Cathy's presence, though.

Cathy's relationship with him was unique. But somehow, now… he just wasn't as disturbed at the thought of being without her anymore. Well, not as he used to be. He couldn't understand why, though. 

* **Author's Note ***

hey!

This is my wonderful second edition of this… I've re-edited the chapters and made them shorter, so jst a note to tell y'all. I'm also getting on in the next chappie, so no worries. ^_^ anyhow, reviews r very appreciated and I thank PrincessRobin, SorceressElf, and a special thanks to Meghanna. Ur encouragement and support is invaluable! Now onto the chapter breaking and making…

-w.r


	5. Partners

Disclaimer: sad as it is, I'm poor, don't make money off of this fic and don't own GW, so please don't sue me, though the newbies r all mine (pls don't steal 'em!)

Warning: cussing…

Partners

Cala was still gone. She had missed the prep talk completely (again) and the show was beginning in two hours. It would start at noon precisely. Not a minute later. The ringmaster was busy with some minor problems, so he hadn't noticed Cala's prolonged disappearance. Yet. Trowa hadn't actually gotten costumed and make-upped yet, as it was still fairly early. Only starters were getting ready to begin. He wasn't a starter. He and Cathy were never starters, really only because-

__

Damn. I just remembered. I have to do a dual act with Cala, since Cathy's gone. We should have practiced, before now. She doesn't know what we're supposed to be doing. I should have remembered before this, so we could have rehearsed earlier. I've got to find Cala.

His eyes narrowed infinitesimally and a deep furrow in his brow formed. He sighed and exited the side tent and hurried to the trailer that he, Cathy-and now Cala-shared. Cala intercepted him as he approached, interrupting him before he could even begin to admonish her and himself for their error.

"The ringmaster's just told me that we've got to perform together. I've seen your acts with Catherine, just give me an outline of this act that we'll supposed to perform tonight," she said, moving straight to business. She turned him around and started walking with him in the direction he had just come from. "I'll work with that, I've dealt with a lot worse," she added dryly.

He hadn't been sure what he was going to say to her after he had overheard part of her conversation with the man over the communicator unit. He hadn't been certain at all when he had set out to look for her. But because she was subtly insulting him now, Trowa knew exactly what to do and say. He let his natural reaction take over; forgetting about the thoughts that had nagged at him all morning.

"If you say so," he said dubiously, raising an eyebrow provocatively and waving vaguely toward a couple of folding chairs off to the side, by the outside of the tent. He didn't hear Cala move, but he knew that she had gone and picked up two of the chairs that he had pointed out. Trowa took his from her and carried it to a low-branched tree, setting it under the shade. She followed suit and sighed happily as they escaped the burgeoning heat from sun.

"Since you'll be taking over Cathy's place in the troupe and the spotlight, you'd better get used to working with me. She and I do double acts all the time." Cala lifted a brow, as if thinking something that she wouldn't say. Trowa took note of it, but didn't bother responding. "We'll practice everyday for an hour or so to perfect the moves and our synchronization together. One wrong move on one of our parts at a wrong time could be deadly. We'll usually have more time than this to rehearse our act, though. Catherine will warn us ahead of time, from now on. Is there something you'd like to add, before I give you your suggested outline?"

"Actually, yes, there is. Besides, my pointing out that that was the longest speech that you've ever made in front of me, I need to ask you something." Trowa didn't bother to react to her flippancy and waited for her to continue, not replying. Cala rolled her eyes, before continuing. "I was under the impression that I was doing solo performances during the show, like last night. Why do I need to do a dual act with you now?"

"You'll be taking Catherine's role here. And as you might have noticed last night, she did a dual act with me," he retorted snippily, offended at her dislike in her voice when she mentioned him. His arms crossed instinctively over his chest and he drew closer in confrontation.

"I knew I should've spoken to the manager about this," she muttered irately to herself, provoking Trowa into attack mode.

"If you can't handle working with me, take it up with me."

"Is that an insult or a challenge?" Cala demanded, equally affronted as him. Her hands went to her hips and her lip sneered in hauteur. The electricity between them was thick enough to feel.

"Which would you prefer?" he returned, barely keeping his calm. Her silence stretched on for seemingly an eternity.

Seconds passing onto minutes and still no reply. A breeze picked up and knocked the branches overhead askew. The quiet movement opened the shade to the still bright, but fading sunshine. The soft wind picked up random strands of Cala's dark locks and pranced with them in the air. A shaft of yellow sunlight raced down through the gaps in the branches. It caught Cala's profile and illuminated her face.

The indigo orbs on her face brightened and shone in the sudden light. Trowa could feel himself falling into their depths. And in that moment, Trowa saw Cala in a different light. Smoldering anger, hurt pride, and dignity lit her eyes.

He simply stopped seeing her as the kid replacement for his beloved sister that he could and should despise. He saw her as she was: a grown woman, talented, responsible, annoying, confusing, funny, irritating, and… 

Absolutely the most gorgeous thing to walk the planet.

She was enigmatic, for certain, making her all the more suspicious to Trowa's experience, but that was the whole allure of it all. He could sense hidden strength from her and secrets that she wouldn't divulge for the world. And it wasn't just that she was physically beautiful, he realized. It was her passion genuineness that emanated from her that made her so particularly beautiful. When he dared to dive into the depths of those dark blue eyes, as he was doing now, he saw and felt something. He couldn't explain what, but it made him feel as he'd never felt in his life.

The soft breeze continued, blowing a stray strand of ebony hair into Cala's eyes. Her angrily lit eyes did not waver and when she didn't bother to brush it away, his hand involuntarily reached up to do so for her. An electric spark shook through him as his hand touched the soft skin of her temple. Startled, he quickly withdrew his hand. From the look of surprise in her widened eyes, he knew that she had felt it too.

"Uh… What were we talking about?" she asked a little breathlessly and she stepped back. Her gaze with his did not waver from his, though, and she lost her surprised look.

Trowa forced himself to focus on what she was saying, even though the urge to close the distance between them was distracting him. "The act."

"Right. It's in about an hour and a half. What the hell are we supposed to do after that hour and a half are up?" A frown creased her forehead.

His emerald eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Hmm. I've been planning out a new act with Cathy, but we haven't had time to actually test it out yet. My part's pretty much perfected, though. Why don't we try that?"

"Is it on the high rope?"

"Yes."

"Any safeties?"

"No."

Her eyebrow shot up doubtfully. "Daring, aren't you? A completely new and untried act that you haven't even practiced with your own sister and yet you're willing to perform it with a complete stranger."

"If you're afraid-"

"I never said I was afraid. I said that if I were you I would be afraid."

"So, I should be afraid of performing my act with you?" Trowa's face remained expressionless and Cala smirked.

"No, I never said that either. I'll pull off your performance, don't worry, and I'll make it famous."

"Enough talk, let's get moving." He started to head back to the tents, when he realized that his so-called-partner was walking in the opposite direction. "Hey! Where are you going? The tents are back this way." Cala smiled smugly and stopped only to reply.

"I'm not going to the tents. Where are _you_ going?" She whirled around and disappeared behind a thicket of trees. A sigh of exasperation could not be suppressed from him.

"I hate my life. No, that's wrong, I hate _her_," he muttered grumpily to himself, following her and picking his way through the tangle of large thick tree trunks and smaller shoots that were coming up in the canopy gaps.

"I heard that!" Cala's voice came from somewhere ahead of him.

"You were supposed to." Her laugh's echo bounced off trees, making the forest seem to lighten up.

When he finally caught up to Cala, they had apparently reached their destination. She stood, waiting, in the middle of the clearing that he'd seen her talking before. However, now, instead of the jumble of electrical wires there was cleared ground and a high metal wire hung between two trees. It was approximately fifteen feet in the air.

"Not too high, not too low," came Cala's voice, as if reading his mind.

"I'm just impressed how fast you got it up," Trowa retorted automatically, not bothering to turn to her.

There was a pause before she answered. "I've had it all afternoon and it's pretty simple to put everything up." Her voice sounded odd and he realized the full meaning of what he'd said. For a second, he held his breath, wondering whether or not she would guess what he had done earlier that morning. "You think that I'm the type of girl that needs men to do the hard work of putting up the wire, do you? I'm shocked at your stupidity."

He let the breath go in a disbelieving snort. So Cala wasn't as brilliant and deductive as he'd first thought. Oh well, the better off for him. He turned his concentration back to analyzing the miniature high wire, missing the disdainful glint in Cala's bright eyes.

~*~*~

Children's delighted laughter drifted through the air and the happiness of everyone around was infectious. Cathy couldn't stop the wide grin that popped up on her face as soon as she saw the bright lights of the carnival. She couldn't remember ever being so giddy with laughter in her entire life. Quatre seemed to be infected with the happiness too.

When they had arrived, Cathy had sprung out the driver's side (after hastily parking the vehicle) and dragged her somewhat reluctant fiancé over to the ticket booth. After they had purchased their tickets, she promptly beat Quatre at a game of remote controlled water boat racing. She made it up to him by letting him take her into the Fun House. It still made her shiver at the thought of all those creepy corridors there.

They'd made their way into the House of Mirrors, Ferris Wheel, and most of the game booths. Quatre had bought two huge pink cotton candy sticks and a huge bucket of buttered popcorn and they were walking hand in hand, talking and laughing.

They were having the time of their life. The past forgotten, the future put on hold, merely living in the present. But the suspense of time and thought couldn't last forever.

~*~*~

About forty-five minutes later, they were still rehearsing their parts on the practice wire. Trowa had just made his second timing error, which had then caused Cala to trip over his misplaced foot and tip off the wire. She had landed all right considering that she'd landed flat on her back, but the wind was knocked out of her and her temper was high.

"We've got the moves down pat, we just don't have the coordination!" It was her fifth time saying so, though this was her first time saying it on the ground.

"How do you expect me to have perfect coordination with you when I just met you?!" he demanded, pulling himself back into a sitting position on the wire and glaring down at her.

"You've dedicated your whole life to this and you can't do it?! I've known you long enough to figure out your body rhythm, why can't you figure out mine?!" she yelled back, dusting off her jeans and marching over to one of the trees that supported the wire. "And I haven't lived a big chunk of my life in a circus!"

"Sorry I can't do everything as perfectly as you, but I'm only human! I can't execute everything perfectly and analyze everything perfectly like a machine!" he retorted, his voice rising.

"Get over it! I'm not expecting you to be a perfect machine, nor do I consider myself one. I'm just expecting you to be smart enough to learn from your mistakes and not let them happen again! Just like every other normal person in the world. That timing error is simple enough to correct, but you need to focus and pay attention to it all the way through. This is your act, not mine, so you're going to look pretty stupid if you mess it up!"

Then, he did the most unexpected thing. Trowa swung himself back, hung upside down from the wire and gave her a very sour raspberry. Her burst of laughter scared the birds from the treetops and was heard by the ringmaster back at camp.

* **Author's Note** *

next chappie…


	6. And Then He Took the Fall...

Disclaimer: don't own GW, never have, probably never will, but don't steal the newbie's b/c they're mine 

Warning: pg13, those who r younger than that and don't like cursing please leave… haha, jst kidding, but telling u not to complain about cussing ^_^

And Then He Took the Fall…

They'd finally escaped from the bright lights and loud noises of the carnival. Quatre had taken her to a dim club where the jazzy notes of the saxophone were played on stage and people conversed over candlelight. It was Catherine's type of place and she simply relaxed over a glass of light white wine.

"What do you think of our evening so far?" Catherine glanced over at her fair-haired fiancé seated opposite her and smiled.

"It can hardly get more perfect."

Quatre grinned in response and stared into the dancing candlelight, the slightest of creases marring his forehead. Catherine let him contemplate in silence for a moment. "Something's bothering you, Quatre. I know that you want to tell me something, so just go ahead. Don't worry about a shock attack. I think I can deal with just about anything you throw at me."

"Well, I need to ask you something important."

"Then go ahead. Ask." Her voice was soft, as she looked him straight in the eyes.

"I've been thinking about this for a long time, Cathy, and I think that right now is the best time for it. With the wedding coming so close you should be devoting your time to planning it. I know that you have commitments to the troupe until your contract expires, but that's only in two months. After that…" he trailed off, worry creeping into his eyes and Catherine slowly shook her head in incomprehension.

"I still don't understand what you're getting at, Quatre."

His frown deepened with frustration, as he couldn't find the right words to explain. "What I'm trying to ask you, is if you would move in with me after you stop working." Violet eyes widened with surprise at this and he hurried on. "I mean, into the house. A lot of my sisters are already staying there in preparation for the wedding. They would be like chaperones, so you don't have to worry about impropriety. And we haven't discussed what you would be doing after you left the troupe, so I thought that maybe it would be easier if-"

"Okay, slow down. I admit that I haven't thought that far yet, but I'm not sure if this is such a good idea. I mean, I'm sure of my love for you, but I don't think that our relationship really extends that far as of yet."

"Cathy, I don't want you to misunderstand. I just want us to be closer together. Get to spend more quality time like this together. With the troupe you're always halfway around the world or in the colonies and though I travel a lot and get to visit you sometimes, it's not the same as living in the same town and having a normal relationship. Most couples get to do this every night if they want. Spontaneously go out to any random restaurant of their choice or just spend some time on the couch watching a sappy movie together. I want us to be able to do that."

Tears sprang into her eyes. "Oh, Quatre."

"So does that mean a yes?" His hopeful look and pleading sky colored eyes pulled at her heart.

"Of course, it means yes. How could I ever say no?"

His expression was almost as elated as it had been when she'd assented to his proposal and he reached across the table to grasp her slim fingers. "You won't regret ever saying yes to me, Cathy. I promise you that."

~*~*~

"So you think that we're ready for this?" Cala asked quietly, while peeking through the canvas flaps of the circus tent.

"Ready or not, we're going to have to do this," Trowa replied, outwardly calm, though his heart rate was racing from nerves. He too, sneaked a look out at the crowd, seeing the excited faces and hearing the random chatter. He then turned back to inwardly sigh at their matching green costumes that were both revealing and silly.

Cala turned to stare at him gravely with her deep blue eyes. "I just have one thing to say, Mr. Barton." He stared seriously at her in return.

"And that is?"

"You look queer in that outfit." All it took was a blink of an eye for him to recover.

"Thank you. So do you."

"What?! I do not!"

"And neither do I."

Before she could retort, the spotlight went off, her entrance cue. "We'll talk about this later. Good luck!" And she took off at a sprint to her starting position. Trowa looked after her, shaking his head and smiling, then began climbing up the ladder leading to the beams of the ceiling, making his way to the trapeze swing.

It was darker up here than it was near the floor because the lights were pointed downwards. He waved congenially to the light guys and they waved back absently, waiting for Cala to get into place. And just as they clicked the spotlights back on, the ready and posing Cala, Trowa heard the noise of clothes rustling in the shadows, something that was abnormal in the silence of the rafters. The little hairs on the back of his neck suddenly stood on ends and he could have sworn that he saw the slightest of movement in the dark. Alarmed, he held his breath for a moment, standing completely still, trying to see if there was anyone there, but just then, the lights focused on his new partner down below and the audience burst into loud applause, crippling him from hearing anything at all. The light guys were motioning him forward to the trapeze swing that they held for him and since he didn't see much else, he shrugged off his bad feelings and went on with the routine as planned.

Climbing gracefully onto the bar, he gave the signal to the assistants to let go. The whistling of air in his ears was a welcome rush of adrenaline. And while he was slicing through the air, aiming for the ground, he quickly fell backwards, hanging from his knees upside down and held his hands out. Through his lopsided view, he could see that Cala was there posed and smiling brightly at the crowd, her hands, like his, outstretched and waiting. Quickly and smoothly, he grasped her hands in his and picked her up as he swung by. Then, swiftly, before they could start the downswing, he swung her so that she could stand on the bar on her own and as they reached it, he dropped himself onto the high rope. The spotlight glided his way and he bowed to the applause of the crowd under the heat of it.

And though he never usually smiled to the audience, there was a particular reason now that he looked somber. At the back of his mind, the feeling of uneasiness still nagged at him. There was something that he was missing. He hadn't gotten this feeling since the last threat to the peace of the world, when he and the rest of the Gundam pilots had been needed. But the feeling was unmistakable and he knew that it was genuine: there was something wrong.

The taut high rope shook a little as Cala dropped beside him. Then came the tricky part that they'd been working on before. He braced himself to catch her and she sideflipped, landing hands in his in a straight up handstand. In the few seconds that they had, poised like that, he saw her expression of tension that didn't seem that it was from fear of the act flopping.

Then, she'd swung away, her legs hooked onto the trapeze bar. Seconds later, she returned, taking him away with her and swinging him up so that he could stand on the bar, for the next part. She pulled herself up from her hanging position, facing Trowa. He could see clearly now that something was definitely bothering her.

"What is it?" he asked, his voice low.

"Something's not right. Don't you feel it?" she replied, bending back, his hand supporting her, so she didn't fall. When they reached the high rope again, she flipped backwards off the bar. Trowa flipped off likewise on the back swing, landing beside her only a few moments later.

"Of course, I feel it. But you shouldn't worry, I won't let anything happen to you," he muttered back as he picked her up and swung her below the rope. She flipped up behind him, landing on his shoulders, and was immediately taken up by the incoming trapeze bar. As he waited for her to return, he saw a dark figure crouched over the place where the high line was drilled into the support beams. It was a bit of a blur after that.

All Trowa knew for certain was that as Cala was on the down swing of the trapeze bar, her figure approaching quickly when he suddenly felt as if the line beneath him had given away under his weight and the high rope beneath him was not there anymore. Gravity pulled at him and he knew then that he was going to fall. The floor began to loom, when out of nowhere a strong hand suddenly and grabbed hold of his wrist and he'd stopped falling. A sudden jerk or two loosened the grip of the hold, but another hand quickly caught his wrist again before he could slip. He wasn't quite sure that he wanted to look up to see who his savior was, but he did anyway.

It was Cala. No real surprise there, but what took him aback was the look of undisguised fear creasing her face. She hung from her feet from the trapeze bar, her hands firmly gripping his. It was the first time, and probably last, that he had ever seen her truly afraid. That fact was frightening in and of itself. And because of that he didn't even hear the crowd's enthusiastic applause and standing ovation.

An hour later, the police were still investigating the suspicious event…

"Well, it's pretty plain that it wasn't an accident. Look at those cut lines. All the support ropes were sliced cleanly through, and I mean that heavy iron line that you two were standing on was heated up and then cut. Otherwise it would have been impossible for it to break." The stout officer sipped at his coffee, while Cala sighed impatiently.

"Officer, what are you going to do about it?"

"Well, young lady, we're planning to gather the evidence, burnt rope, etceteras and then-"

"Not that! I was talking about the fact that there was obviously an attempt on someone's life here." Trowa could see her forehead crease, with what seemed genuine concern and he couldn't help but wonder what exactly was so wrong.

"Oh, about that. Well, I'm not sure what we're going to do at this moment, but-"

"Shouldn't there be some protection for us? I mean, there's someone after us! They want us dead. You just can't let that happen!" Just as Cala was beginning to sound hysterical, when a smooth faced man stepped in.

"Officer, I think that you should let me handle this." The officer looked relieved and walked away to help some of his men with the donut box. "Excuse me, ma'am, I'm Detective Leary. I'm investigating this case."

She apparently turned her anger blindly on the man. "That's great for you, but what are you guys going to do. Our very lives are in danger."

"Ma'am, I don't think you understand, but it looks like that the assassin wasn't trying to kill both of you." Cala's deep blue eyes suddenly narrowed suspiciously onto the detective, taking in every detail and her forehead of burrows smoothed away into complete inexpression. But Trowa only noticed out of the corner of his eyes, since he was staring just as hard at the man.

"What are you talking about, detective? An assassination attempt?"

"Yes, sir. An assassination attempt on one of you. I'm sure that if this guy wanted to get you both he could've done so right at the beginning. I have a feeling that those ropes were cut for a while. Probably the start of the show. I interviewed some of those light men up there and they said that at the beginning, they checked it, like they always do and nothing was wrong. There were over twenty support ropes there. I estimate that, to cut 'em all quietly, it would take about forty-five minutes, which is about the time that your act started, forty-five minutes after the opening."

Trowa was marginally impressed, the man's detective abilities bumping him up a bit in his opinion, but Cala's eyes were still suspicious so he stayed on guard as well. "That makes sense, but how does this have to do with only one of us being the targets?"

"Well, sir, am I correct in thinking that this particular part of the act was when Ms. Cala was about to stand by herself on the line, as you've informed us. The only time during the whole routine that Ms. Cala does so." Trowa nodded slowly, still not comprehending. "I've concluded that this guy _waited_ until Ms. Cala was about to stand alone on the high rope. His timing must've been off and the rope must've snapped too early. So instead you were the one who would have taken the fall." This conclusion seemed to stun Cala, her eyes widening with shock, so Trowa put his hand reassuringly on her shoulder, protective and territorial instincts kicking in.

"Don't worry, detective, I'll take care of her."

"I'm sure you will, so you see why I don't think that we'll need any extra protection for her."

There was something fishy in the man's eyes and the way he had just said that, but Trowa nodded in assent. "Yeah sure. She's in good hands, detective."

"We'll be off soon. Night sir, ma'am." With that he turned and walked off, away into the crowd of roaming police officers. Cala immediately and violently shrugged Trowa's hand off her shoulder. Then she made as if she were about to follow the detective, when Cathy appeared out of nowhere, blocking her escape, looking anxious and worried.

"Cala, what's going on? Why are there so many policemen around? Why did the manager just fire those two trapeze assistants? Is something wrong?" Trowa could see that Cala was straining to follow the detective with her eyes, to see where he was going off to, so he answered for her.

"Cathy, someone sabotaged our act, cutting the support ropes to the high line, the police think that it was an assassination attempt on Cala."

Catherine gasped, her eyes widening in shock. "But why? Is Cala in trouble with the law?"

"The police still don't know why." He glanced at the distracted Cala. "But the manager fired those two assistants because when the high rope broke and Cala caught me, they panicked and tried to hook the ropes supporting the trapeze, almost making her lose her grip on me and the bar."

"Are you serious?" Trowa almost flinched at the sound of her tone. He had a feeling that he was going to get a lecture on safety. "Paul and Michael? They panicked? Have they already lost their jobs, or is the manager still thinking about it? You know he'll regret this in the morning. They've both got little brothers and sisters to worry about, so they can't lose their jobs. Oh, no. Where is the manager? I'll have to talk some sense into him." His caring, concerned older sister went off in search of their boss, leaving Trowa behind, blinking in astonishment. Cala seemed to notice his surprise and smirked, still gazing into the distance for the detective.

"What're you shocked that big sister doesn't baby little brother so much anymore? How old are you, Trowa? It's not so hard to get." Her smirk widened a bit. "I'd heard of the famous protectiveness of Catherine Bloom, but I didn't know that it applied to everyone in the troupe. I didn't need a big sister, but hey."

Then she took off, too, in the direction following the detective. It took a moment for his brain to register the fact that the person he was supposed to protect had just left the security of the area. "Cala, stop! Where do you think you are going?" he called after her, hurrying after her. He didn't catch up with her until they'd gotten well outside of the circle of warm light that glowed about the main tent. It was right at the tree line that he could finally get her to pay attention to him, actually grabbing her arm and forcing her to face him. Her face was taut with annoyance and something akin to frustration, her glare shooting daggers of ice.

"I can protect myself, thank you very much. I don't need anyone following me around, especially a _retired_ Gundam pilot."

"Oh, really?" His eyes burst into green flames, contrasting her frigid blue gaze. "Then why the hell were you so freaked out before? Yeah, you act so big and tough, but when you're in a situation where your ass is on the line, you fall apart. You don't like to admit it, but I've been in situations like that before and I can handle it. I wonder whether you have, Cala."

That brought pity to her eyes and she shook her head almost sadly. "You don't know me. It seems like you know nothing at all. You don't understand it. It's unbelievable that you could ever call yourself a Gundam pilot. You don't deserve that title. You really don't." She then extracted herself from his grip and turned to leave again.

"You have no right to say any of that!" burst from his furious lips before he could stop himself. Rage made his usual composure disappear, his face afire with unusual emotion, his fisted hands shaking from restraint. The transformation from the calm, calculating Gundam pilot that he usually was to the emotional and downright angry pride-bruised man was amazing, but Cala didn't seem to notice. She faced him once more, pity gone, and her face expressionless.

"Trowa, don't you get it, yet? They weren't after me. And I certainly wasn't the one to fall. So it wasn't myself that I was worried about." Then, she looked him straight in the eye, as if trying to discern his thoughts themselves, her sharp gaze piercing his for that split second in time.

"It was you."

She whirled around and disappeared into the darkness at a sprint. Her words echoing ominously in his mind.

* **Author's Note ***

onto the next chapter…


	7. Whoever Wanted Normality?

Disclaimer: I don't own the original Gundam Wing or any of its original characters (Trowa, Catherine, Quatre, etc.), BUT (I love that word) the new guys, Cala, etc. r all mine, so please don't steal 'em (I'd hafta hunt u down and that is waaay too much effort for me, so don't)

Warning: probably some cussing, but hey what's life w/o cussing (?), anyways, consider urself warned

Whoever Wanted Normality?

He didn't know exactly when it had started, but he knew that had been after their strangely successful dual performance (in which, the audience must've thought that Cala's lucky save was part of the act). Both he and Cala had made a silent agreement never to bring up their last 'conversation' over the act ever again, though he sometimes wondered just what she had meant. The troupe had been making quick progress to the next major city with no extra shows in between, so everyone was utilizing the free time wisely and creating and practicing new routines. Though everything else had hit a scary sort of norm in daily routines.

His shopping obsessed sister and Cala had gone on about a dozen mall-raiding trips together, searching for the right ring, right veil, right who knew what, which made them fast friends. He still didn't understand how women could connect while running around a _shopping mall_, which, in his opinion was too crowded, too noisy, and insane. What was the point of buying clothes on sale when you didn't need them at all? He'd stopped voicing that opinion, however, because when he did he got a lecture about the wonders of the fashion world for about an hour and he hated that.

Cathy had begun to call her beloved fiancé long distance everyday for about two hours after they had eaten their evening meal, leaving Trowa and Cala alone to their own devices during that time. He remembered that it had been her to make the first move in initiating conversation with him.

It was when Cathy had just disappeared after washing the dinner dishes and Trowa had collapsed on the couch to possibly take a quick nap, when Cala had sat down with him. She had set down two steaming mugs of hot cocoa and shot a warm smile over at him. She'd started talking about how she used to do that with her friends: chat over hot chocolate. He immediately thought that he would be bored or offended by a close conversation with her, but was proved wrong. She'd neither asked personal questions nor talked about stupid feminine things. She'd surprised him by confessing a passion for sailing. They'd then talked about their hobbies and passions, getting into deeper and deeper subjects. He'd found that it was very easy to talk to her, more so even than talking to his sister. He began to explain things about himself that he'd never told anyone and told her much of his past. Before they knew it, over three hours had gone by and Cathy came upon them sharing an afghan and talking to each other on opposite sides of the couch, hot chocolate long gone.

And so the cycle began.

Cathy would lock herself in her bedroom for a couple hours for a romantic chat with Quatre, and Cala and Trowa would hold their evening conversations or debates, as they often turned out to be, in the living room. They were very different individuals, they reasoned one night, so it was natural for them to have clashing opinions and therefore it often turned into arguments or debates. Catherine had once called it matrimony fighting, but Cala had shut her up with a pillow in the face.

He found that Cala was quite intelligent, but very opinionated in certain subjects. She wowed him with her expertise in the technical area of machines and computers. He could talk to her about his experience as one of the G pilots and though, she had seemed strangely anxious at the beginning, she empathized somehow.

When everything had finally begun to settle in, that was when the trouble started…

"You know, Trowa, I've been thinking." Cala stared pensively at him, the window of the truck had been opened and a smooth breeze blew her hair back. Trowa angled a glance at her, taking his eyes off the road for just long enough to register the knowledge that no woman, besides the one sitting in the passenger's seat next to him, could have looked better with windblown hair.

"Wow, that's a first."

"Oh, now I'm hurt. I hope you can see the hurt."

"Yeah, the tears are just raining down."

"Hmph, that doesn't deserve a reply." She sniffed delicately, making Trowa want to grin, and continued with her 'thoughts'. "Well, I was just thinking that with all the long distance calls that Cathy's been making, the phone bills been getting pretty big, don't you think?"

"Yeah, so?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her wince at the mincing of words. She was always telling him that he never spoke more than one sentence at a time and it was beginning to bug her. He'd never told her that he did it just to annoy her.

"Well, don't you think that she should have noticed it by now?"

"Yeah, so?"

Another wince on her part. "Don't you think that if she'd noticed she would cut back a little?"

"What does this have to do with you?"

"Oh, nothing. It's just that the last time I tried to call out, the telephone company wouldn't let me, because the bill's over the limit."

"Ouch."

"Is that all you're going to say? Aren't you going to say something to her? I can't, it would be so rude. I mean, she's your sister. You've got the most influence as a blood relative."

"You missed something, wise one, she's my older sister. I have no power over the years that she's got reigning over me."

"Oh, come off it. Fine, whatever you say, stupid."

"If I may reiterate myself, ouch."

"Oh! Is the poor baby's feelings hurt?"

"Yes, very hurt."

Their fairly limited conversation was interrupted by a frizzy-haired, funny looking Cathy, who stuck her head through a small window between the two and squinted into the bright light of the afternoon sunshine.

"Would you two stop your bantering. I'm trying to find a decent pair of shoes back here and your noises are bothering me."

"Ah, speaking of the devil." Cala's blue eyes brightened as she turned to her copper haired friend. "Cathy, your dear little brother and I were just talking about the enlarged phone bill that's been haunting the lines and cutting off all access to the outside world."

"So use the net, dear little Cala." Catherine sighed in frustration and suddenly set a glare on an exasperated Cala. "Have you borrowed my black sandals again?"

"The net does _not_ serve adequately in this particular case, you phone demon. What are you going to do about it?" When Catherine only glared at her more she sighed and answered her question. "And no, I have not 'borrowed' those sandals 'again'. That first time was for the elephant rider, Jean. She had a hot date and didn't have shoes for her slinky black dress."

These words just deepened the frown on Cathy's forehead. "Well, I hope that she doesn't have another hot date tonight and borrowed my shoes again, because _I've_ got a hot date and _need_ those shoes!" The two women had by chance or on purpose completely excluded Trowa from ever entering the conversation as they had turned the topic onto clothes and wardrobe. He didn't mind so much and was more than a little amused at their antics and funny gestures as they argued with each other.

"Tonight?" Surprise sobered Cala's voice and her brows drew together ever so slightly, a sign of genuine concern that caught Trowa's attention. "I didn't know that you had a date with Quatre tonight."

"Of course, tonight. I forgot to tell you. Tonight, he's taking me to the opera house, which is why I bought that beautiful lilac ball gown. Versace design and make that cost a fortune, but is so worth it. The one with almost no back and you said the color accented my eyes." His sister's enthusiasm about a dress caused a prick of annoyance as he searched the reflection of Cala's face in the rearview mirror. Her babbling was holding up an explanation for the obvious worry in Cala's expression. "He also said that he wanted me to meet someone, though he wouldn't say who. It's a surprise. I hope it's not someone boring again, like those old executives of the people that Quatre works with."

Trowa could've sworn he had seen Cala's face pale, but its color had returned so quickly that it might have just been a trick of the sunlight. "Uh, why don't you just wear your white pumps?"

"Cala, dear, have you lost your sanity? This is a formal occasion! I can't wear white and lilac at night. Especially at the opera house. I'll stand out like a sore thumb." This time he was sure he saw Cala gulp nervously, after glancing away from his obviously excited sister. But she seemed to regain her composure, giving Catherine her full attention and fashion wisdom, like she always did.

"But that's a good thing. You'll stick out and everyone will see how beautiful you look in that dress. That's the point isn't it? Wear the diamond and pearl necklace set in white gold that Quatre gave you the other day."

"Hmm, I can see that." Cathy seemed to think for a moment, pursing her lips in concentration. "But still, white pumps?"

"Then try for the silver strappy sandals. And you can borrow a pair of earrings from me. They're zirconium, but they look real enough and they'll go wonderfully with your beautiful new engagement ring." Cathy held up her hand to show off her newly bought diamond ring, square cut and set in platinum. Quatre and she had gone shopping before they'd left town and Catherine never took the thing off. "I'll do your hair, which is, by the way, completely frizzballed right now. Oh, and when exactly is it? I want to watch a movie tonight and I don't want you to interrupt it with your whining like you always do."

"Hmph! I can't help the humidity. And I do not interrupt your movies." She pouted sulkily, then smiled slyly. "But I'll let you do my hair and face at six for forgiveness. Quatre's going to pick me up at seven-thirty. The opera's going to begin at eight o'clock precisely. It's in Italian and I can't wait!"

Cala laughed prettily, her patented laugh the same as ever, smoothing out the small creases marring her forehead. "Cathy, you are never going to change. Fine, six it is. And do you even know Italian?" Catherine smiled at the sound and pulled a hand through her unruly, sleep tasseled hair.

"Not the language, but the shoes are fantastic." She rolled her eyes in exasperation as Cala cracked up at her 'blonde' moment and continued as if her friend was not gasping for breath between lengthy laughs. "Quatre will translate for me, or so he says. I told him he had to or else I would refuse to meet this person of his. Well, as you're not fit for intelligent conversation as of now, I think I'm going to soak in the tub for about an hour."

That was enough to make Cala sober up and stop laughing hysterically. She rolled her eyes and muttered grumpily to Trowa, "Now she's after the water supply. What next? I hope she ends up looking like a prune after five minutes." Cathy tried to look menacing, but it was ruined by the twitching of the corners of her mouth.

"What was that, Cala dear? I couldn't hear you."

"Oh nothing, Cathy dove." Cala batted her eyelashes sweetly. "Have a good bath."

Cathy's grinning face disappeared from the hole and Trowa shook his head to hide his glance at Cala's expression. The slight crease in her forehead had reappeared and she was staring out the window as if deep in thought. He decided to keep the conversation going, as if he hadn't noticed anything. His voice and expression were deadpan as they always were. "If you two get any younger, I'll have to start diapering you." Cala's attention snapped back to him and she smirked.

"Oh, well, then get the baby powder ready, Mr. I'm-so-much-older-than-you."

Trowa smirked in reply, but didn't say anything. Cala sighed at his lack of speech and turned the car radio on. Before long her clear soprano voice was singing along with the catchy tune. She was back to normal, he thought silently, but there had been a lapse and that was enough him suspicious. There had been something wrong and he had all intentions to find out what.

* **Author's Note ***

hey!

Sorry it's been such a long time since my last posting, but this chapter was originally a lot longer (about twenty pages and counting) and yes, my previous chapters were that long, but I decided it was too much of a pain and cut this little bit to make all u ppls happy ^_^. Of course, I left u w/ a little itty bitty cliffhanger that I thought y'all might like. Couldn't resist it. (evil laugh)

The next chappie is coming out soon, I jst hafta finish it, and it's almost done. The chapter after that, I promise, will either have Duo or Heero in it, depending on how I feel (evil laugh again). [I love authoress power]. I might even go back and edit a whole lotta the other chapters, jst to see if anyone cares ^_^ (probably not, but those loose ends bug me). I also think that the title of this fic is horrible and am thinking of changing it, so if anyone has suggestions for a better name, jst tell me w/ an email (_hesiod23@hotmail.com_) or a review (hint, hint)

And then, I've got some bad news. After mebbe the next chapter, posting will probably be on hold until June or so. I've got a general problem w/ hw, teachers, and tests (especially finals [shivers]), so I won't really have too much time to post, even if I have time to write. Sorry!! (PS, but I might reconsider if I get a ton of new reviews, yeah, I'm begging, but hey I'm allowed to every now and then)

-w.r


	8. Danger Will Robinson!

Disclaimer: don't own Gundam Wing or any of the original chara, but I do own all the newbies, so if u steal 'em be prepared to die a PAINFUL death. (cough, clear throat) have a nice day!

Warning: there is probably a couple cusses in this chapter/ENTIRE story, so think of urself as warned…

Danger, Will Robinson!

It had been forty-five minutes and they still had not walked out of Cathy's bedroom and he was rolling his eyes with impatience. Just how was it possible for hairdressing, drying, make-overing and make upping supposed to take, he asked himself, as he flipped through the TV channels, searching for a good Friday night movie to watch. Trowa glanced at the large faced clock by the kitchen counter. It was six forty-five on the dot.

"Are you going to stay there all night, Cath? 'Cause I'll need to call Quatre and tell him not to come, then."

"Very funny, Trowa, very funny. I haven't even changed yet, so hold your horses." His sister's voice was muffled from the door. "Oh, but come on in here for a minute. I need to talk to you for a second." He heaved a sigh and clicked off the television, striding over to his sister's bedroom door and entering.

The small room looked as if a tornado had hit it. Beauty magazines, discarded pantyhose, and other personal apparel lay strewn all over the floor. What was apparently Catherine's attire for the night was hung on a hanger on the closet door. His sister sat cross-legged on her sunny yellow bedspread, in the middle of the mess, dressed only in her fuzzy pink bathrobe.

He blew out his breath, impressed in spite of himself, his sister's fire red hair was coifed in a Greek style, pinned back with a gold wired net, a few curls loosed in strategic places, and her face made up to perfection. Standing beside her was Cala, fussing over the flawless coils of hair. Cala looked up and shot a warm smile up at Trowa who was leaning on the doorjamb of the opened door. Compared to the sophisticated elegance of his older sister's appearance, Cala should have looked like a slob, but she didn't. Wisps of dark hair escaped a hasty looking ponytail, falling into her eyes, which seemed to glow with suppressed excitement. Feminine beauty radiated from both women.

Trowa couldn't resist a small smile directed toward his new partner, before talking to Catherine. "So, sis, what'd you want to talk to me about?" Cathy turned her head slightly and scrunched up her forehead in thought.

"Well, Trowa, since Cala's leaving in five seconds-"

He blinked in surprise and quickly interrupted her. "Wait, what?"

"Yeah," Catherine nodded her head in confirmation, "she's going out to visit her friend's house, since she said she'd already seen all the movies in the cinema and in the video rental place." Cala smiled and saluted him, stretching before turning and walking his way, toward the door.

"Yep, consider me just about gone." She slipped past him and was out the door before he could make another word. He stared after her suspiciously as he heard the front door slam with her exit.

"What's she in such a rush for?" he muttered to himself.

"Oh, something about catching the seven o'clock bus or something. But, Trowa, I was about to say that now that Cala's gone you're all alone here, so I was wondering if you would like to come along with us to the opera. You know, dust off that tux of yours and help out with making the boring, old, and completely incomprehensible opera fun." She turned her hopeful violet eyes onto him, smiling pleadingly. Trowa raised an eyebrow thoughtfully.

"You mean, you need someone to translate Quatre when he translates Italian and I'm the man for the job." 

"Precisely." Catherine sighed. "My fiancé is just too smart for me. His normal vocabulary is usually already dictionary work, but when he gets into other languages… well, _no one_ can understand him more than they can understand the other babble."

Trowa smiled his slow smile and nodded his consent. "All right, Cathy, but only because you're my favorite sister."

"I'm your only sister!"

"That too."

And with that he slipped back out the door and shut it firmly behind him. A smirk tugged at his lips and he strode down the hall to his room, turning his thoughts back to Cala. _Just why has she disappeared _again_? Well, I won't think about it right now. I've got to spend some time with Cathy before she goes off and gets married and I might as well do it now._ He sighed and went into his room to see if his tuxedo still fit.

~*~*~

The cool night air was refreshing as it hit her face. The rush of the speed, the risk, and the danger was thrilling and exhilarating. She could never find enough of it. Her only slight addiction. The smooth purring of her motorcycle reverberated in the air around her as it sped down the dark and desolate alley. The only perfection in the world was at that moment and if she had a choice, it would never end. Her tires screeched loudly in protest as she made a sharp turn into the empty side street. The streetlights flickered on as she sped by and she saw that she had reached her destination. She sighed inwardly and decelerated, slowing enough to skid into the almost empty parking lot outside of the old rundown factory.

In the shadows, Cala made out the faint gleaming outline of a stretch limousine. Her motorcycle made grumbling sounds as she coasted into the space next to it, popping the kickstand and hopping off of it. A dark tinted window rolled smoothly down from the side of the vehicle and a familiar face blinked disapprovingly up at her face.

"Ms. Abassi, I still don't understand why you insist on driving that dangerous thing of yours all the time. What with all of your obligations, being reckless with your life is very irresponsible. And at the very least the time it takes to find a parking space for those annoying little things is horrendous! Drivers are paid to make the time for such things." Cala rolled her eyes before she slid off her helmet, leaning down to better face her vice president.

"Sachs, dear, don't sound so annoyingly presumptuous. I wouldn't want to have to make you drive this stupid slow thing, that you're in, around for a month again, now would I? You just can't seem to comprehend that drivers are people too, not just working class, now let me in already."

The small middle-aged man frowned, muttering something under his breath and pushed open the door for his employer. "I swore that if you did that again, I would quit."

"You wouldn't dare," she replied assuredly, shaking her hair out of her eyes and sliding into the seat beside her vice president. "You're pay's too high for you to do that and you know it, so don't try that again. How is everything going? Let me have a look at the company review and stock portfolio. I heard something about a couple points that rose yesterday." The older man's brown eyes lit with the happiness of a child who had just been given a gift.

"Oh yes! It was so exciting. I was sitting in my office when…" and he went on to describe the whole scenario as the limousine drove off from the parking lot. Cala nodded pleasantly, smiling and laughing at the right times, while she leafed through a stack of papers out of a smooth black leather folder. Occasionally, she would interrupt his story to ask questions about something in particular, but over all the fifteen-minute ride didn't take long.

The limousine came to a smooth stop as they reached front of a showy and expensive looking salon and spa. Sachs let himself out before Cala, still babbling animatedly. When Cala stepped out into the cool night air again, she noticed the dark figure cloaked in the shadows step forward and the corners of her mouth curved in satisfaction.

"Cemal, it's been a while." Her soft tone reached his ears even through the incessant chattering of the businessman ahead of her, as the young man straightened the collar of his leather bomber jacket, heading towards her. "And where's Azim?"

"Yes, it has been a while, Cala. Too long, I'd say." His voice was low, but she could hear his hurt and she reached over to touch his arm. "Azim's stationed at the opera house, he's going to be your escort for tonight. Won the coin toss, the sly bastard. I swear he cheats, somehow." His bronzed skin paled only slightly as it hit the bright lighting of the salon sign, his white teeth flashing even more brightly in a warm smile.

"Ah. I see, you've been taking good care of yourself. Take that vacation down south, like I told you to?"

"Well, yes," his dark cheeks flushed slightly, "but I handled some minor business dealings while there too. It was nice to see the sand again."

"I know what you mean." The smallest of sighs escaped her lips reaching his ears through the bustle and hustle of the city. "I've been missing the heat."

"And the sun. And the humidity. A certain someone we know has told me that you would be missing the 'mother desert' as of now." Cemal's eye gleamed with humor as they stepped into the salon and watched Sachs argue furiously with the woman at the front desk.

"I see you've been chatting with Hamir." Her voice was low and amused. "How is that wily old liar? Made any more predictions yet?"

"Nope. But I think that he's going to try to move into town."

"Oh, really? That's a first. How long has he been in that little basement of his? I'd say about forever and a couple of years, but I'd probably be wrong." She glanced over at the still fighting couple before her and rolled her eyes. "Oh, this is taking forever, excuse me a minute, Cemal." He barely withheld a grin as he witnessed Cala smoothly step into the conversation and reach over to the secretary's computer keyboard, type in a few quick codes and then point to place her appointment had appeared on the screen. The flustered young woman glanced at the screen and blushed furiously, beginning to apologize profusely. Cala just shook her head, and smiling graciously thanked the woman.

A matter of seconds later, a small fussy man stepped out of a door, greeting Cala and hustling her into the back room. She exited approximately five minutes later donned in gorgeous silk dress, the color of it matching her dark indigo hued eyes, and her hair swept back in a simple and elegant French twist. Her pulled back hair let the eyes of spectators' focus on the royally sculpted structure of her face; her wide slanted eyes perfectly complementing the slashing cheekbones, which led down to the lush cherub-red lips.

"So, how does your very not-well dressed date think of your tailored Chanel evening gown, along with its lighter-than-air, hand-knitted Irish ebony lace shawl?" sniffed the sharply dressed man accompanying her out of the dressing room.

"Gary, dear, I'm sure he doesn't give a damn, because Cemal isn't my date," she said absently, checking the delicate platinum Rolex that now resided on her slim wrist. "My escort is meeting me at the opera house and if I don't hurry, I'll be late."

The man rolled his eyes in exasperation, pouting like a child. "Doll, I never could understand why you never understood the term 'fashionably late'?" Cala smiled warmly and played along with his bantering.

"Because, dove, I run by business time and there is no such term."

"Business time. Hmph! You're much too young for that. I've always told you that you should quit that nonsense and join up with me to become the model that you should be."

"And I've always told you that you should stop hanging around the dressing room so much, the perfumes are messing with your head."

"Hmph! The thanks I get for my hard work." He pouted, sulking, and Cala laughed lightly, hugging him with an arm, before accepting a small beaded purse from an attendant.

"Well, I'll be off now, Gary." She straightened and beckoned Cemal and Sachs who was knee deep in paperwork to the door. "Thanks so much for your help again."

"No problem, doll. Toodles now and have a good time at the opera." The man waved cheerily as Cala, Cemal, and Sachs stepped back into the limousine and were off. Sachs was grumbling about the bad service and Cemal was trying to keep his eyes off of Cala. No matter how many times he'd seen her decked up in formal wear, he still couldn't get used to the fact that her beauty radiated a million times more than ever in them.

Cala glanced up from packing her tiny purse with necessities and leafing through various reports of her company, to see Cemal staring dumbfoundedly at her. She could barely resist the urge to laugh. Her best friend for eons was ogling her like a starving beggar ogled a delicious deli sandwich from the outside windows. That fact alone reminded her that she wasn't a mere child posing as an adult anymore. She had grown up. And in more than one way. The realization made her sigh with a twinge of sadness.

Before she knew it, they had reached the entrance to the opera house and her driver was holding the door open for her. Smiling politely, she stepped out onto the rich red carpet and froze when she spotted her escort waiting somberly for her a few feet away.

"Well, little one, it seems that you've arrived at last." His soothingly familiar voice penetrated through the darkness.

"I guess I have." Deep blue eyes stared into steady dark ones for a moment. "What do you think?"

"I think that I'm seeing a vision of a grown woman, because all I can remember is a little girl." Unshed tears sprang to her eyes and she rushed into Azim's open arms, breathing in his musty familiar scent

As she stood in her old friend's warm embrace, forgetting the world around them, she felt herself wishing deep inside that she had never grown up and that she could stay a child forever. "Azzy, I missed you," she whispered into the depths of the starched linen in his tuxedo surcoat.

"I know, little one, I know," he murmured back and they stood there for some time, no more words needed.

~*~*~

The urge to grind his teeth in frustration almost overwhelmed his polite smiling exterior. He should have known that there would have been a catch to tagging along on his sister's date. His 'escort', a fragile-looking debutante, heir to some useless fortune, giggled annoyingly as she tugged his arm. He just couldn't understand why his well-intentioned, but completely misled sister and best friend repeatedly tried to match-make him up to the stupid idiots with butterflies for brains and about a ton of rouge plastered on their faces.

He should have known when Quatre had not only seemed unsurprised to see his best friend in the old tux, but pleased. As soon as they had entered the magnificently designed opera house, his so-called 'best friend' had introduced Trowa to his date. The blonde had stuck to his side like a burr and hadn't let go. The desire to groan was so overpowering. The blonde idiot had been giggling and babbling on about how flattered and excited she was to be here with the hero of Earth and the colonies. He would've bet everything he owned, and probably everything that Quatre owned, that the girl wouldn't have even known who he was if his wonderful sister hadn't 'by chance' pointed it out to her.

As they entered the private balcony that Quatre had reserved and his date's attention was pulled away from him by a question of seats, Trowa got a good look out into the packed opera house. Doctors and lawyers in their stuffy formal wear, talked among themselves, their fussy motherly wives chattering with each other about bad baby-sitters. He took in the beauty of his surroundings, with the gorgeous wood arched ceiling and red-velvet carpets, seats and curtain, and suppressed the urge to sigh.

Being who he was, he rarely got to see the elegance of this type, though he was sure he could if he really wanted to. The fact of the matter was that he never let himself. He had never felt that he deserved to walk among the black tied people, and he was never very comfortable around them.

Mentally shaking himself out of his self-pity party, he looked up and around. The other balcony boxes were filled full of expensively dressed businessmen, not much unlike Quatre. The lights flickered smoothly, a signal that the show was about to start when he caught sight of a familiar figure in a box closest to the stage. His emerald-shaded eyes narrowed with suspicion. A beautifully dressed woman with sweeping dark hair and striking dark blue eyes turned to her escort, flashing her facial features. The sharp planes and the strong nose of the bronzed face were identical to that of Cala's. But the lights flickered off for the last time, disabling Trowa's sight.

His instincts told him to leave immediately and investigate, but that he knew that it would cause too much commotion. The darkness calmed his sudden and seemingly random quickened heartbeat and he cast his mind about for ideas. _What is Cala doing here_, he thought to himself. Doubt catching his mind. _If that's even her. It's been awhile since the last Preventer assignment and I'm getting rusty, so I wouldn't be surprised if this is just another of the rich, empty headed debutante that looks even faintly like Cala. Hell, I only got a little look at her. Anyone can have dark hair and blue eyes. And Cala isn't likely to be _here_. She's joined the circus. She can't afford a seat here in the balconies, much less the best box seat possible. Even less to dress for an occasion like this_.

He was sure that the annoying brainless pip-squeak beside him was wearing a dress worth well over a six figure number and bejeweled in a relatively small fortune of big, white ice.

The curtain opened and the stage lighting went on, but he couldn't see the woman in the box closest to the stage's face. The light had intensified the shadow's darkness that she sat in. Soft, annoying humming distracted him, and he turned to see the blonde beside him raised her expensive gold opera glasses to better see the stage and the singers, holding it backwards to her eyes. When she squinted and complained loudly that they didn't help at all, he gritted his teeth and murmured quietly that she had it the wrong way. The blonde blinked blankly for a minute and Trowa rolled his eyes, physically taking the glasses and turning them the right way for her. Peering through the lenses, she cooed in loud pleasure and purred her thanks to Trowa, running her gloved hand seductively on his arm. He was only saved when a hissed "Shutup already!" from the rows below insulted the blonde into sulking off to the lady's powder room.

Trowa mentally gave thanks to whoever or whatever was up there as his eyes followed the blonde out the door, making sure that she didn't walk into anything, he noticed the stalwart form of Rashid standing outside the door. And an idea struck him. Since he couldn't leave to investigate, he could ask Quatre to send his faithful assistant to do it for him.

And at least he had something to keep his mind off of berating his idiot of an escort and he leaned to his left, where his sister and Quatre were seated. They were whispering and giggling to each other like teenagers and he cleared his throat softly to get their attention. They both looked, startled and curious, at him and he began to tap softly in the old Morse code his message.

__

* I think I just saw someone I know. Do you think you could get someone to investigate for me? *

Quatre, who understood perfectly, frowned slightly in the semi darkness, tapped softly in reply.

__

* I guess so, but what for? *

* I'm not sure. Just a feeling. *

His fair-haired friend seemed to consider this for a moment and nodded. _* It couldn't hurt, I guess. I'll send Rashid to check it out. *_

Trowa nodded in reply, tapping a quick thank you along with the location of the suspicious individual as the blonde idiot returned to her seat, still in a bit of a huff. With his curiosity satisfied, he would be able to suffer through the rest of the evening quietly, without lashing out at his "date" and strangling her to death out of either sheer boredom or insanity from her scary stupidity. At least he hoped so.

~*~*~

Smiling coolly, she accepted the flute of champagne from the waiter as she waited patiently by the soothing marble fountain. Patience wasn't a virtue that she had by the bushel, but Cala had cultured it out of need and practice. Lots of practice. Sipping her champagne, she rolled her eyes and checked her slim Rolex again.

10:00 on the dot.

She was directly on time for their rendezvous, but she knew that her new business associate, being the fashion socialite that he was, would never consider being anything but fashionably late. Five or ten minutes wasted, she thought disgustedly. No matter how much she liked Quatre, she detested lateness of any sort more. Her excuse was that she ran on business time, which she did, but her strictly planned schedule never allowed for more than a three-minute space between appointments and she hated to be behind.

Rolling her eyes yet again, she glanced around the hotel lounge. The opera's post performance reception was just beginning and the guests were still arriving by the dozen. A pretty young woman with a riot of dark curls, dressed simply, relative to the well-dressed guests hurried by and caught her attention. Cala blinked and called out to her.

"Gabriella? Is that you?"

The woman looked at her and instantly recognized her, rushing back to greet her. "Miss Calista! I can't believe you're here! You never come to these silly parties. It's so nice to see you again." Her slightly Italian accented voice was rich and far more beautiful than the woman's looks. Cala grinned at the sound of it.

"I see your voice hasn't diminished at all, Gabby. Wonderful performance, by the way."

"Oh no! It was horrible and you know it!" The woman smiled modestly. "Complete error during the fifth stanza in the eight movement of the symphony. They skipped the entire thing! It was horrible. Everyone became so confused."

"Oh yes, I noticed that. Maestro Phillips must have lost his glasses again. What with how he nods his head so violently while conducting, I wouldn't be surprised. And I saw him fumbling on the ground for something right about that time. You pulled it off excellently in the end, though."

The woman colored slightly at the praise and motioned for a waiter to bring her a flute of champagne like Cala's. "Luck, I guess. But I must say it's wonderful to see you here. It's been quite a while since I've seen you at a performance."

"I've been traveling for business and it's extremely busy in the company." Cala allowed herself a sigh among friendly company. Gabriella nodded sympathetically in understanding.

"I heard about the business merger between the Winner's company and yours, Miss Calista. It must be a good thing, but a lot of hard work?"

"A lot of both. But it'll all be over soon." She smiled at the sympathetic look the younger woman sent her and she gestured for Gabriella to move on. "I know you have to go and smile for pictures and sign some autographs, so off you go. Don't worry about an old lady like me. I'll be fine." The girl giggled at her words and started off again. "Oh and if you see my new partner, please send him this way," Cala added. The woman nodded smiling and soon disappeared in the milling waters of people.

Her lips twisted into a small smile of pleasure. Though she was always invited to the receptions as a much-loved patron of the opera house and its singers, she rarely attended them and it was a pleasure to see some friendly faces that were so welcoming to her. If only Quatre would find her already, her happiness would be complete.

~*~*~

Quatre eased slowly through the crowd of people, stopping to chat with some acquaintances about the performance and leaving his fiancee and Trowa behind at an interesting marble statue that he knew he could find again. He was already a little late for his meeting with his new business associate, but that couldn't be helped. Polite social quotas had to be met before meeting her.

As he sidestepped his way through a particularly thick crowd of people, a soothingly beautiful voice floated to his ears, cutting through the clinking of toasting crystal. "Mr. Winner. Over here, Mr. Winner."

He turned to see the star of the opera, Isabelle G. Giordano-Faylis, beckoning for him to come closer to her. Automatically, Quatre flashed his flawless photogenic smile as he stepped closer to the group. The young woman was surrounded by high placed 'drama' people that he knew faintly, but he didn't know the singer at all.

"Hello, Ms. Isabelle. Your performance was beautiful."

She laughed modestly. "Why does everyone keep saying that when the opposite is the truth? But, anyway, it hardly matters what I think, no? And thank you for your compliments, Mr. Winner."

"Please, call me Quatre."

"Only if you'll call me Isabelle."

"All right, I can accept those terms." He chuckled with the group and quickly checked his watch while everyone was distracted. "My apologies ahead of time for being rude and hurrying off, but I have to meet someone-"

"Oh don't worry, Quatre. I only called you over here so I could give you Miss Calista's message. She was looking for you and asked me if I could direct you to her if I saw you. Please tell her that Gabby saw you and gave you her message." She chuckled a little. "I hate to be thought of as irresponsible, especially when I owe someone such a great deal." Then she shooed him off, returning to the previous conversation.

Her words left him with food for thought and more than a little curiosity to add to the mix. Quatre knew, by instinct, intuition, or Gundam training that his new partner was hiding more than her share of secrets, but he had never, nor ever intended to pry into her life. Calista Abassi was simply going to be his business associate.

Nothing more.

Though he couldn't help but wish for a friendship with her. Somehow she had made a connection with him during their brief meeting. Not a sexual connection, he thought immediately, feeling the heat rise in his collar just at the thought of such an idea. More of a connection made through understanding. Not only was she of his culture and religion, but she had somehow understood the situation he had been in, engaged to the woman he loved and then faced with the ridiculous arrangements of his father.

That was a feat that only some of his closest friends: Duo, Wu-Fei, Heero, Trowa, and Catherine. And Relena. He almost flinched at the thought of his ex-fiancée. Though their former relationship had been broken by her unbreakable love for his friend and fellow pilot, Heero Yuy, they had not stopped being friends. Despite that fact he sometimes felt discomfort burn at his conscience whenever the subject was brought up.

The ever charismatic and perfectly beautiful Prime Minister Relena Peacecraft Yuy. Calista had so reminded Quatre of her. The glowing indigo eyes were almost exactly the same when he thought of it, but also the fact that they had both had the unique ability to understand him. And just about anyone, as a matter of fact. Though they seemed to use the ability in what seemed to be completely different ways. Relena to empathize and sympathize and then to use her powers of persuasion to help. Calista to see another point of view and help change the situation to both of their advantages. But in the end, both of which were used to help.

Their special ability of understanding seemed to attract loyal friendships from people. Relena's group of admirers included both himself and Lucrezia Noin. And from what he'd seen of the 'Cemal' person, who had been so malevolent towards him, he'd recognized to be pure loyalty to Calista. 

But, he thought, firmly reigning in his thoughts, a close friendship with Calista was impossible. It had always been the policy of the Winners to never deal business with friends, the opposite of such a situation practiced as well. Of course, as far as actions went, he _did_ plan on introducing Calista to his fiancée. But then that was an entirely different matter, he reassured himself. Catherine had been nagging at him to include her in his business and he was obliging. She would eventually need to meet Calista sometime, as his partner would be a firm fixture in his work, even though it had been a month since the paperwork had gone through and this would be his first time meeting her face to face since.

Quatre made a mental note to himself to bring that up to her as he slid out of the slow moving crowd and caught sight of his partner. Beautiful as ever, Calista was waiting by a flowing marble fountain, her expression doggedly patient. A genuine smile lit his face as he waved to her and they met mid-way.

"Well, if it isn't my lovely new business associate. How have you been?"

Calista showed off her perfect white teeth in an easy smile. "Wonderful. And you, Master Quatre?"

"I've been doing pretty well. Was told to give you a message from 'Gabby' that she'd sent me to you." Her smile broadened.

"Well, that's good. You may think that singers are flighty people, but I can always count on young Gabby." She didn't elaborate as called for a passing waiter to refill her champagne glass and though Quatre wanted to, he wouldn't ask her to. "Set a date for the wedding yet?"

He automatically flashed a grin at the thought of his upcoming wedding. "And the date's set for next year summer. Cathy wouldn't let me set it sooner. She said that my sisters have been tripping her up so much that she's too behind schedule for a sooner date."

She laughed jovially as she looped her left arm into his right and started walking with him back to the swarm of people. "That sounds about right. From what I hear, wedding planning is a horrible thing."

"I'm sure it is. Praise Allah that I don't have to live through it."

"Oh, you. We should really get onto more important topics than the stupidity of the male species, though, so I won't start." Quatre had to smile at that.

"I can agree to that."

"You should." Calista responded with a smile of her own. "Now, not only should we discuss our new partnership and some of the changes that should be made, but I have a personal note to add." Her manner sobered on the last note, catching Quatre's interest.

"Why don't you just get it over with now, if it's important, that is?"

"Yes, it's important." She paused, seeming to hesitate for a second. "It has to do with your safety and that of your bride-to-be."

Quatre's eyes widened immediately with alarm, halting their brief stroll but managing to keep his voice low and level. "Our safety? Just what's going on?" Calista laid a calming hand on his forearm.

"It's nothing immediate, but… this is a warning to keep a more careful eye on your and your loved one's security."

"Has there been a threat made against us?"

"No. But it wouldn't make a difference, because there is one. A definite threat to your well being." And seeing the questions in his face and eyes, she shook her head to them. "I can't tell you who or what. It's too complicated and I'm not even sure, but it's not just you. It's everyone."

His sky-blue eyes narrowed. "What do you mean everyone?"

"Everyone that was involved in saving the world from chaos and destruction. And everyone that is currently keeping it from caving in on itself right now."

He could feel the panic begin to rise in his throat. "Everyone?"

"Everyone."

Quatre turned away from her, staring at the ceiling, almost unbelieving. "Then the world is in jeopardy."

"Naturally. But then again, when isn't it?"

His attention snapped back to her. The way she had said those words. Just tossed them off her tongue like it was nothing important. The way she looked right then. Completely at ease telling him that the world was at stake and he might lose everything he loved. He'd only known four other people who could have done that and they probably might not have been able to do it anymore.

Incredulity and awe filled him and he stared hard at her. "Just how do you know all this? And just who _are_ you?" Mirth glinted in Calista's deep ocean blue eyes and she smirked. He realized then that he really didn't know the woman standing in front of him. She was a total stranger, despite their 'early introductions'.

"It's nice to see that you're finally awaken out of the daydream of the tranquillity in peace, Quatre." She tossed her dark hair out of her face and slipped the rest of the bubbling champagne down her throat. "Because that's just what peace isn't. Peace isn't a happy wonderful dream. That's what it might be for normal people, but we aren't normal, Quatre. No matter where we go or what we do, we will be everything but normal. For us, peace will always be the greatest fight. To keep it. To live it. To be it. And peace, here on Earth and in space, is there to stay. It's just begun to plant its roots and it's got a long life span ahead of it, so I'm guessing that the battle's just beginning, wouldn't you say?" Calista laughed her delightful laugh and then stared her twinkling eyes straight into his confused ones. When he failed to reply, she just smiled some more and gently handed him her glass.

"I don't think that I'll be able to stick around some more for some business talk. I'm due for a meeting with someone else soon and I don't want to be late. I'll send some of my files on my thoughts, on some improvements and such, over to you, but I think that our business is doing extremely well so far. The stock's gone up a bit and the new labels have been delivered on time. We're doing great. Hope it keeps up. I'll be around some more later on. If you've noticed my prolonged absence, you can tell that right now I'm pretty booked. So I'll see you later." Then she twirled around as if to leave, then paused, as if catching an afterthought. "Oh and don't worry about warning all your friends. I'm going on to do that."

And with that she left Quatre Raberba Winner, one of the richest and most powerful men alive, standing there, his mouth hanging open, still too stunned to respond at all.

* **Author's Note** *

hey y'all!

Finally back at school (spring break jst ended) *sniffles*. But o well. Anyhow, the next chappie will be the end of what I call the "opera interlude". (evil laugh) I actually like the opera ^_^. I understand a lot of Italian, too (latin might be a dead language, but it can sound a LOT like Italian *grin*). Anyhow, I know I'm draggin' this out, but otherwise this WHOLE thing would be a million pages by now. I can't help it, I like to draw things out. What can I say but bad habits die hard.

Anywho. Replying to all those wonderful reviews that I love to get! (yeah, it's taken me forever, but I'm a very forgetful person sometimes) sorry about not getting to the plot forever (and I'm still not there), but I write very slow (hehe, sorry, it's true). That's about it for now.

If u want more (and since hw and studying will hamper me from writing so much anymore) then check out my other fic "The Adustum Academy". It's GW and has Cala (yeah, I'm obsessed) and it explains some or most of her past. Don't worry, no spoilers so far. And once I get into the plot of this looong fic, it'll be really helpful. ^_^

-w.r


	9. Soap Operas?

Disclaimer: if I owned it (GW) I wouldn't be here, but ruling the world as I should, be but as I don't own it, I'll jst hafta take my rightful place as universal monarchess the ol' fashioned way (world domination, coup's, and a couple wars, not to mention getting famous). Ok, this is getting long, so I'll stop now… (o and don't steal the newbies [Cala, Cemal, etc.] or I'll hafta hurt u)

Dedication: this goes out to my first EVER reviewer: mama-sama. (fireworks) thanks so much!! [a/n: I will now dedicate each chappie to ppl I feel have done a lot for me, so… yeah, hehe, anyways, onto the chappie…]

Soap Operas?

Slight pain pounded his head and shot through the hinges on his jaw from the pressure that he was putting on his teeth. Luckily for him, the grounding sound was muted by the society chatter and tinkling of crystal in the background.

Too bad it doesn't block out the babblings of my date, he thought, painfully pulling his lips into a polite smile as the idiot blonde debutante made a seemingly funny comment and her drooling admirers laughed. Trowa couldn't help but wonder why anyone would find his escort even in the slightest bit interesting and he doubted that any of the young men surrounding him thought that she was. Her money, classic good looks, and good name were probably the more interesting matter to them, he thought, sneering cynically.

That was when he was forced frowned at himself. He didn't have to be cruel even when he was irritable. His empty headed escort wasn't a horrible person so he really shouldn't think cruel thoughts, even if he never planned to say any of them out loud. Not that he ever planned to say anything out loud, but he wasn't thinking the most charitable thoughts towards anyone right then and if pushed, he would probably end up screaming them in someone's face if he wasn't careful.

Then, like a column of bright sunlight on a cloudy day, a miracle happened. His scapegoat for escaping the dull conversation appeared. Quatre, looking grave, parted the sea of people like Moses, his faithful servant, Rashid, trailing him. Trowa quickly made his polite excuses and slipped out to meet them.

"Did you find anything?"

Quatre didn't seem surprised at the less than friendly greeting and absently ran a hand through his shiny golden locks. "On the person that you wanted us to investigate? Nothing significant. And it's not important right now. I've just received a warning from someone, saying that we are in danger?" The key word 'danger' caught his attention immediately and Trowa's bottle green eyes narrowed.

"Who's 'someone' and who's 'we'?"

The questions weren't unexpected, though Trowa knew that at least one of them wouldn't be answered. His best friend wasn't given to revealing his sources, especially when they wanted to remain anonymous. Quatre seemed to be in a certain state of confusion, frowning deeply and hesitating before answering.

"I'm not really sure who's 'we'. My 'informant', as we can loosely call her, wasn't very explicit in answering that. From what I remember, she said something about all those who had protected the world from chaos and destruction and the everyone doing so now."

Immediately, his mind clicked in recognition to that.

"The Gundam pilots and the people that helped them end the wars." Trowa saw Quatre's eyes flash as he, too, made the connection.

"Got it. She also said something about warning my friends. Should I-" He cut in, reading his friend's though follow-up.

"No, too dangerous. The transmission might be intercepted and this is too risky for that. Whoever it is that is endangering us, would strike then, the element of surprise, having been lost."

"But we don't even know when they're going to strike, anyway," Quatre argued. "It might be right now, for all we know."

"Don't worry about it. We can't do anything right now. I'm due for the L2 colony soon, so I'll give the heads up to Duo. See if you can talk to Wu-Fei sometime soon, maybe through the Preventors. It'd probably be better for us to do this in person, so there definitely won't be any unknown leaks. Our last stop before the New Year is the Capital, so I'll warn Heero and set him on his guard with Relena, as well as the Preventers." Quatre nodded in understanding, looking at Rashid, who nodded in affirmation. Trowa swallowed, hesitating, knowing he was entering thin ice territory, but continued anyway. "So if your informant didn't know when the strike is going to happen, then we can eliminate the possibility that she is sided with the enemy." His fair-haired friend looked startled by the idea of a double agent, but then sighed in agreement.

"Yes. I didn't think of that before."

Trowa didn't say anything, but thought that if the brilliant strategist hadn't thought of that possibility than he must have known the informant quite well, perhaps intimately, therefore never considering betrayal. Quatre's weakness had always been a habit of easy trust, though it was well hidden. The CEO noticed the predatory green glint in his friend and soon to be brother-in-law's eyes and shook his head.

"It wasn't an ex-lover or anything like that, Trowa. I'm very sure she's trustworthy." He didn't bother explaining and Trowa knew better than to ask twice. "Where's Cathy? I don't feel safe with her out of my sight." Trowa mutely agreed.

"She's over there," he pointed to their left, "talking to a bunch of artsy people about ballet."

"Good, I'll go join her." He noted the overt glance at Rashid, who had backed quietly out of the conversation earlier and was standing to the side, brushing his gaze over the entire party of people, keeping his eyes out and alert for safety reasons. "Rashid didn't find anything pertinent. The woman you saw wasn't a criminal or anything. I know her quite well, because she's my new business associate. The consolidation was legalized last month and is getting in order as of now. Her name is Calista Abassi."

He recognized the name as a young CEO of a powerful company that had its finger in just about every industry possible. Except oil. Thus the consolidation between the Winner Oil Company and the Khan Enterprises, recently renamed Abassi Enterprises. The result had been surprisingly good. He knew because his the majority of his stock had been invested in the Winner Oil and he had followed in the newspapers as well, as having been informed officially by the company.

"Yes, heard about her in the papers. I just thought she was someone else."

Quatre nodded, understanding, as usual. "Something about her that looks so familiar. I could've sworn she was Relena, with black hair and if I hadn't known otherwise."

Trowa raised his eyebrows in question. He hadn't thought of that, but it didn't really matter. He didn't really see Relena Peacecraft Yuy in anyone. She was an individual unto herself and no matter how much he admired her, he thought of her as a little bit crazy. Who, in her right mind, would chase after a guy like Heero Yuy? Then again, he never understood why women would want to chase after him, the quiet Trowa Barton, either and they still did. To add to that, he never understood women at all. Trowa just didn't bother like Quatre did. It wasn't worth the effort. The women he knew and respected, like Relena and Sally Po Chang, were worth knowing, but, to him, the rest of them were just there to keep the human race alive and going.

Instinctively, he flinched, knowing that he would be seriously injured if he ever let any woman, especially the women he lived with, find out about his thoughts on that particular subject. Blinking, he looked around. Quatre had left to seek out Catherine, knowing that Trowa wasn't going to give him any more of a response.

And with a polite nod to Rashid, he made his way over to the group that Quatre and Catherine were conversing with. His sharp ears couldn't help but pick up a snatch of their current chat as he got into earshot.

"-so she had to leave? How disappointing, I wanted to meet her." His fickle sister's voice drifted through the crowd of people.

"Sorry, Cath. She had to leave a little suddenly. Urgent business. But she gave me her apologies to give to you." At the stiff quality of Quatre's voice, covered heavily with honey, Trowa guessed automatically that the new associate of the Abassi-Winner Corporation was Quatre's informant. Quatre had been a very bad liar and no matter how hard he tried, he could never fool Trowa if he had to talk directly about a sensitive subject.

Catherine, however, soaked it up. She obviously didn't care all that much about meeting his new associate or she would have commented about the odd sound of her fiancé's voice. "Calista. That's such a pretty name. It sounds so familiar to my friend Cala's too. Cala, Calista." She laughed lightly. "But I'm sure that Ms. Calista is much older than my new friend, Cala. And they probably don't look anything alike. Cala is so funny and sweet, I should introduce her to you sometime."

Cala.

Calista.

A rush of cold water seemed to hit him in the face, stopping him in his tracks, as the idea struck him. The similarity between names was incredible. Only one syllable and the loss of a couple letters. His eyes widened as his mind flashed back to the glance he had gotten of the woman in the balcony box before.

Was it possible that…?

No! Of course not, a part of him screamed in reply. But then, in a quiet confident voice, the logical side of him said that the coincidences were too many and close together. Similar names, and familiar facial features. Calista Abassi had been at the opera tonight, while Cala had disappeared from the circus. The chances were too high. And he had to investigate.

Before he knew it he was out the door and driving like a maniac down the highway on a car he had taken the liberty of 'borrowing' from Quatre. He had to see whether or not Cala was back.

Breathing hard, he skidded to a stop as he approached the trailer that he, his sister, and Cala shared. He pounded up the steps and burst through the door, his eyes darting desperately around. The kitchen and hall were empty. And the whole place was silent.

Cala wasn't there.

He had his proof. No matter what she said in answer to his interrogation. He knew that she had been to the opera. She had been lying. He should've felt like celebrating, but for some reason he didn't. A bottomless pit seemed to have formed in his stomach and he turned to the living room, thinking of turning on the news to wait for his sister to return from the reception party. And there sat Cala, staring confusedly at him.

"You looking for someone, Trowa?"

What could've been elation made him smile, but he wasn't sure what he was feeling anymore. Much less why. All he knew for certain was suddenly the pit in his stomach had disappeared and he was smiling for almost no apparent reason.

"What're you doing here?"

The immediate stupid question leapt from his mouth before he could stop it, but he didn't care as he walked to the couch she sat on and dropped himself in the place beside her. Cala smiled beautifully and unmuted the silent television in front of her. "Oh, just watching my favorite soap opera."

"You watch soap operas?"

"Yep. And this one's my favorite. It's called _Sunset Horizons_ and I've been watching it forever."

"You're kidding me."

"No, of course not." She met his incredulous stare and grinned sheepishly. "I had some pretty boring vacations and it's not my fault that there's nothing besides soap operas on the television during the daytime. And this one's really great. Guess what?"

"What?"

Her face sobered and alligator tears formed in her eyes. "Hope died, today." Trowa couldn't help the instinctive urge to cuddle her, though when her words got through, his eyes widened and he gulped.

"Repeat that, please."

"Hope died, today," she reiterated slowly.

"Wait, whose? Yours or mine?" And then it hit him and he groaned, exasperatedly smacking his palm against his forehead. "Oh, my god. You mean Hope as in _Sunset Horizons_."

"Hey! It wasn't her fault! Sure, the idiot was driving recklessly, but she wouldn't have taken off in such an emotional mess if it hadn't been for her finding her boyfriend, Devon, cheating on her. So, it's his fault. Not to mention, her lying, backstabbing best friend, Faith, who is really her twin sister separated at birth by their evil now deceased grandfather, who is really Devon's illegitimate father. Faith was the one Devon was cheating on Hope with. I swear that Hope is such an idiot for not seeing it before now. And the worst thing is that Faith is now carrying Devon's baby and he has to marry her. Isn't that just horrible?"

Trowa didn't bother with a reply as he was still groaning from the oddity of it all. His day and everything that was happening. Actually sticking out the first date he'd had in five years (he usually just ditched the date and the idea once he found out what was really going on). Then, rushing home to find someone, or not find someone. And to add to it all, soap operas! As if his life wasn't a soap opera already. And if Cala was going to stick around, recovery from it all was going to be like a distant memory.

But it didn't seem all that bad, really.

That was, Cala sticking around for a while. She was starting to grow on him. No matter how annoying she was at times. He looked at her, staring cheerfully at him, glancing every now and then at the noisy commercials on the color box ahead of them.

"But what were you in such a hurry for?" she asked half-absently as she plucked some popcorn out of a large container in front of her and crackled it in her mouth. "I mean, I've been here for about forty-five minutes, just pigging out on popcorn and watching the ol' telly, waiting for Cathy and her fiancé to stop making cow-eyes at one another and come back, with you in tow, of course." Trowa's eyes glinted slyly as he snagged some popcorn away from her, though she tried in vain to keep it all to herself. He triumphantly shoveled it up and reached for more as she made a face at him and let him have it.

"What do you mean, wait for us? Thought you were out visiting some friends."

"Yeah, I was. But there's only so much I can take of couples flirting with each other. After about an hour and a half of it, I thought I would gag so made my goodbye's and came back here to rot my brains out."

"So there were brains to rot out in the first place?"

"That doesn't deserve an answer." She sniffed automatically and pulled the popcorn away from him.

"Which means you didn't have any."

"Hmph!" She sniffed again and smartly pulled his wrinkled and untied black necktie. "You better change out of that tux before we can start fighting over more popcorn and you get grease all over it."

He couldn't help a grin. "But that was the plan."

"Oh, so you wouldn't have to keep going on those little set up blind-dates that your conniving sister makes?"

"I'm not surprised that you knew."

"Hah! I know everything!"

"Sure, you do."

"Yes, I do. Which means that I know that Cathy would just get the thing dry-cleaned if you did get it all dirty and greasy, so shoo. Off with you, to help save us from the soon-to-be huge dry-cleaning bill."

"You just want me gone, so you can finish all that by yourself," he grumbled as he stood up from his comfortable seat on the couch and started heading to his room. "Too bad, because I'm bringing out the big guns when I get back. Sour cream and onion chips, here I come!"

The look on her face was priceless.

"What?! I knew that someone had stolen those from the pantry! You better let me have some of those, or you're deader than a doornail, Trowa Barton," Cala threatened emptily as she heard his snort and the door slam behind him. A smile twitched at her mouth as she set down the bowl of popcorn and pulled out from the folds of the couch, beneath her, a wad of indigo silk that she had been sitting on. "Now, I'm gonna hafta dry-clean _this_," she muttered absently to herself, quickly shaking out the wrinkled dress. "What a pain."

Standing from the couch, her thigh muscles burned a little, but she ignored it. Running around like she had, in order to make herself look like she'd been there for a longer time than really, was more than a little tiring. She headed for her small room, tossed the balled up silk into the mess there, along with her beaded high-heeled sandals that were still on her feet, and shut the still open microwave door before proceeding back to the couch to fill her face with the buttered yellow stuff there.

Sometimes men were so blind, she thought, grinning to herself, as she took the remote and jacked up the volume to her favorite soap.

* **Author's Note ***

hey y'all!

I know u all adore me so much as I've put up this new chappie even though I warned everybody that I probably wouldn't after my little spring break. But this was practically done, so I felt pity for my few, but faithful reading audience, and posted!

Anyhow, I sorta liked this chappie. It's kinda rough around the edges, I know, but I haven't had a ton of time to revise (sorry to my new editor for posting before waiting for ur reply, etc, but I won't have time this coming to week to do it after it, I'll re-post after ur reply). Hmm, tell me what everyone thinks though (REVIEW!! I promise that I write a LOT faster when I have incentive…)

And thank u to all of my wonderful reviewers!! The most recent are.. (drumroll).. **Mystic Jade**, **Princess Robin**, "**phantoms have no voice**", and "**nocomment**". I thank u all, I'm sure the happiness that u gave me will eventually bounce back to u sometime in the future (haha, I jst had to add that). that's all for now…

-w.r


	10. A Blank Check

Disclaimer: I do NOT own GW or any of the original chara that came from there, but Cala and any other newbies r MINE!

Dedication: to my wonderful friend Meghanna Starsong! Her faith in me and advice has helped immensely! (her stories rock too ^.^)

A Blank Check

A major migraine stormed through her head as she stepped into her home office, one of her favorites. An impeccably neat classic Chippendale desk and other elegant and vintage décor that suited her tastes surrounded her workspace. Her beloved Heero was out on some type of business, or so Pagon said. The conferences that had just taken place in the Capitol building were the cause of her incredible head-splitting ache.

"If I have to deal with another stuffy, old, tedious, geriatric, fool of a bureaucratic official, otherwise known as a Senator of the People, I will scream," Relena Peacecraft-Darlian Yuy, Prime Minister of the Earth Sphere-Space Colony Coalition, grumbled to herself as she dropped her weary body in her worn brown leather boss seat. "If they would forget about the costs of this campaign for once, I could get something done. I mean, with the Space Colonies' budgets supporting the Earth's economy, there is more than enough money for everyone. Shouldn't the people see some of their taxes put into something other than repairs for the state roads and the expansion of government buildings? It's just insane. The population of poor people in the colonies and Earth has increased since the wars."

"Yes, it's true that there are donations and support funds made for the orphans, but that is hardly enough for a sixth of them. Many of the starving children resort to thievery, making up for at least thirty-five percent of the crime rate in the status quo. If we could only help them at least a little, to show them that we _do_ care, but no. No, we can't. Too much money. That's their miserly mantra. Even Quatre can't help overly much. His money just isn't enough this time and he needs to devote his time and efforts to his wedding, which I understand completely, but that damned business merging is just so stupid. No, he can't donate company money to the cause, because he'll need to go through his new associate." She blew a gust of air through her lips and rubbed her temples. "And see it's getting me to ramble to myself."

Dropping her elbows on the table, she cradled her downcast face in her hands, when she realized that there was a folder with her name scribbled on it and an envelope addressed to her. Frowning with concern, she slit open the envelope with a silver letter-opener that had the dove of peace engraved on the handle and read the note inside.

Prime Minister Yuy,

I heard that you were having a little financial problem with the Senatorial council. Attached is a check that is hopefully adequate enough for your efforts, for the time being. Consider it an investment. Also attached are some photographs that I thought you might find amusing after the meetings. I like to think of them as a reminder for what is to come.

She blinked slowly as she stared at the scribbled and unsigned letter. Her mouth dropped open a bit as she pulled out a check from inside the envelope made out to her for a big six figured number. A loud 'ca-ching' sound sounded in the back of her mind. Her money problems were solved, or at least held at bay until she could raise enough money for the cause. The check was unsigned, the only signature was the printed bank account number, which she would have to follow up on, to check on whether it was clean of bad records.

Relena had never liked free money, because she knew that there was no such thing. There were always strings attached and she planned on finding them out before actually accepting the money.

But it was still fantastic!

Grinning like a fool, she turned her attention back to the unsigned note. Slowly, her euphoric expression faded as she blinked with curiosity and set the check, with the note, carefully back down on her desk. It had been sitting on an old beaten manila folder. Carefully unwinding the seal, she slipped out a few aging snapshots. Scenes of the sea sparkling against a peaceful landscape and a gracefully elegant palace triggered something in the back of her mind. Her breath was suddenly unsteady and she quickly searched through the photographs. More scenes of the sea and some of small children, playing and laughing in the sunlight were revealed to her. The children were beautiful in an ethereal sort of way, almost cherub-like, dressed in the finest clothes and their hair not even the slightest bit mussed.

It wasn't until she reached the last photo shot that she even realized what she was witnessing.

A little girl, tiny and almost doll-like, grinning broadly and posed in a field of flowers, a crown of blue blossoms in her honey-colored hair, ones that matched her eyes, bright sunshine lighting her small features.

It was herself that she was looking at.

As a child, but still herself. She remembered it. Everything was so clear. Bubbling laughter from family and friends, cool water to soothe the parched throat, and lush green grass to lie in. Fresh air and warm sunlight. It had been a picnic. Her brother had given her a piggyback ride. She'd swum for the first time. The ocean water had been so cold and dark that she had not wanted to dip into it at first, but then someone had pushed her into the frigid depths. A panicked shock had shivered through her as she realized she couldn't get back to the surface and she did not have enough breath to stay under for much longer.

Strong arms had then pulled her up for air, to her great relief, and taught her to paddle like a dog in order to stay afloat. Then there had been water games and when everyone had gotten soaked, they went back to shore and ate lunch.

The Sanc kingdom.

Her past.

Her breath caught in her throat and she found that she was having a hard time breathing right. The photographs fell from her limp fingers and she bolted to the open balcony doors, where the wind billowed the white linen curtains into round-shaped cloud puffs. Looking out into the bustling city, there was only friendly sunlight to greet her and the tops of buildings. Nothing and no one was there. Leaving one question remaining in her mind.

__

Who could possibly have done this?

* **Author's Notes** *

hey!

Yeah, I know it's a shortie, but I'm just procrastinating from getting into the actual plot, because that chapter is going to take forever to explain. ^.^ yeah, I'm so bad. Well, I'm getting there, slowly. I thought I might wanna hint toward what is important in the story (cough, cough). Enough said. How'd y'all like the itty cliff hanger?

Life is pretty hectic right now, though, so don't be surprised if y'all don't hear from me until after finals. Sorry!

-w.r


	11. Shadows of the Past

Disclaimer: don't own GW or any of the original characters (i.e. Duo, Hilde, etc.) but the newbies (Cala, the kids, etc.) are mine, so please don't take 'em.

Dedication: through long deliberation, I've decided that this one goes out to one of my faithful reviewers, whose reviews has meant so much to me, **Mystic Jade**. Thanks so much! And please keep reviewing me and telling me how y'all feel. (special thanks again to my editor and friend **Meghanna Starsong**)

Shadows of the Past

"How many do you think are on there, Maxi?" He looked up from his papers to see his little sister staring hard at the dandelion fluff she clutched in her small fists. Brushing back his choppy muddy brown hair out of his face, he rolled his dark blue eyes and absently twirled his drawing pencil in his still too-small-for-his-taste fingers.

"I don't know, Matte," he replied impatiently. "And how many times have I told you not to bother me when I'm working on something?"

The six-year old snorted indignantly, the silver-gray fluff in her hand quivering in fear on the stem. Her violet-blue eyes glared out at her older brother through lengthy messy purple bangs. "Oh, come on. You haven't moved for the past five minutes. You've got drawing block."

"I do not and that is not a word. Just stop bothering me, all right?"

"Fine, but then I'll tell Mommy that you've been drawing before you've finished your homework."

He didn't even blink at the obvious blackmail, concentrating solely on the very blank paper in front of him. "You tell Mommy that and I'll tell Dad that you've been stealing stuff from the junkyard to build your go-cart."

"But then he'll make me stop helping out then!"

"Yeah, and Mom'll make me stop drawing. So don't you dare."

"That's not fair!"

"Life's not fair. Get over it. It stuck me with a bratty little sister like you, but you don't see me complaining about it all the time."

"Hmph! You're not nice, Maxi."

The boy rolled his eyes and gathered up his drawing pad, standing up from their place on the hill and brushing off grass from his jeans. "I'm going up to the roof to get some peace and quiet. You stay here and if Mom or Dad comes, tell them I'm doing homework or something in my room." An insulted Matte leapt up from her comfortable position on the ground and frowned furiously.

"Hey! You can't tell me what to do! I wanna go with you!"

"Too bad. I'm older than you and a lot smarter, so I can tell you whatever I want to. And if you don't stay here, I'll stop chasing away the monsters under your bed." The little girl pouted and plopped back down on the lush green grass.

Drei Maxwell sighed with relief and made his way carefully down the grassy hill set behind his parent's office building, not bothering to look back at his sulking little sister. A small breeze brushed through his slightly too long hair. The colony was awfully peaceful today, he thought, marveling at the beauty of the day like only a child who had fewer worries than a pet dog could.

Slipping through the back door and sneaking past the old and wrinkled secretary with ease, he raced up the stairs to the flat roof of the building. Both he and Matte had loved to hide out there after school, when they didn't want to go home and so were stuck with nothing to do at the office building. It was the best place because of the view and because they could do things that they weren't supposed to. After a tiring five minutes of climbing the massive amounts of steps, he finally reached the steel door and threw it open, the cool air kissing his warm cheeks. Excited as ever, he looked out over the place where the roof dropped off and there was nothing but air. The feeling of being almost at the top of the world and looking out into the vast buildings and parks in the colony was amazing. It never ceased to give him shivers of excitement.

A pity that they were technically outlawed from the roof on safety reasons. All the more reason to sneak up there as much as they did. He and Matte had always been a team. Tight as a knot, as their mother often told them, though the 'annoying little sister' had always bugged him beyond all belief. When one of them got into trouble, the other would jump into the brawl so that they would never be alone. It was the unspoken pact between them ever since they had runaway together from their nanny in the park when he had been two and Matte about one.

The only reason that he remembered it was because his Dad had always told and retold the story when they had done yet another 'stupid stunt' or so he called them. Heck, Maxi had only slipped off of the roof once, only a couple of months ago, and that had been when it was raining like cats and dogs outside. Matte had bet with him that he couldn't have been struck by lightening even if he went outside and so he had gone and the thunder had scared him so that he had slipped and almost fell. He'd luckily grabbed hold of the drainpipe in the nick of time and Matte had gone for help. He still flinched at the memory of the shouting session that they'd gotten after that. Technically, he was still grounded from that and would be until the age of eighty. As always, his parents, or at least his mother had forgotten about it. His dad probably remembered, but didn't want no one in his right mind _wanted_ his eardrums deafened with the screams that would come from Hilde Schbeiker Maxwell.

Just the thought of his formidable mother finding out about their occasional trips to the roof gave him the shivers. Of course that could have been from the cool wind air and the sudden drop of temperature. Looking around, Maxi suddenly realized that the synthesized light was almost completely faded from the sky and it was obviously getting late. All around him were his drawing papers, scattered by the wind all over the roof when he had been daydreaming. There were about thirty sheets of drawing paper and it would take him forever to pick them all up.

"Damn."

The curse slipped out of his mouth before he could help himself. "Mommy says that you shouldn't say bad words, Maxi. That was a bad word, you're gonna get inta a lotta trouble now." He whirled around at the sound of his sister's familiarly annoying voice and snarled menacingly.

"I told you not to follow me!"

"I don't hafta always listen to you. And Mommy told me to go find you, since it's getting so late. She's downstairs now, talkin' to Laurel."

"Double damn."

"Maxi! That was another bad word, you're gonna be in a _whole_ lotta trouble now!" He rolled his usually cheerful blue eyes and started scrambling around the roof, frantically picking up papers.

"Come and help me, Matte, otherwise we're both gonna be in a whole lot of sh- trouble." The little girl sighed wearily, as if she was ages older than him, and bent to help him. The lights of the sky had slipped away, darkness enfolding them when they'd finally gathered all the sheets and the city was beginning to come alive with lights.

"Maxi, this is so pretty! Can't we stay and watch for a while?"

"Sorry, Matte, but we can't. We gotta get back downstairs, before Mom comes up to check for us." He tucked the collected papers back into a small bag and started for the exit door. But Matte didn't budge, mesmerized by the twinkling lights in the distance. The sound of a motorcycle puttering to a stop somewhere nearby diverted his attention for a moment, but then Maxi ground his teeth in frustration and went to grab his sister by the shoulders, shaking her a little.

"Stop it, Maxi! I wanna stay!"

"I don't care what you want, let's go!" He shoved at his little sister and she fell over with a shriek of pain. She then lay, sprawled on the floor, bawling her eyes out. "Oh, stop it, Matte. It didn't hurt that much, now get up and get going!"

A quiet click sounded to their right and they both froze immediately. Maxi held his breath and slowly turned to see who or what was there. A dark figure stood in the shadows, what little light there was reflected the metal object, in his or her hand, as a gun. Maxi gulped, panic beginning to rise in his throat. But before he could shout for help, a woman's calm voice came from the shadow. "Now what could you two rugrats be doing on the roof at this time of night?" When tense silence ensued her seemingly rhetorical question, Maxi saw the glint of white teeth in the darkness and another quiet click as the mysterious woman uncocked her gun, slipping it back into her front pocket. "Don't worry, darlings, I won't shoot two innocents unless there is very good cause for it. Now, please explain, I don't have all day here."

"This is our building, we're allowed to be up here," Maxi said, hesitating a little and slowly sidling over to block his purple-haired sister from sight. Even though the gun was gone, he wouldn't trust anyone he couldn't see clearly with the chance of hurting his little sister. "What're you doing up here?"

"I highly doubt that you're actually allowed to be on a roof in the middle of the night, but I'll let that slide. I'm up here for my own reasons. You two should be skidaddling now, it's pretty late and your mother will be wondering your whereabouts." He was close enough to Matte then to clamp a hand over her protests before they began and started to pull her towards the exit door.

"Right."

The woman's dark figure turned her back on them, as if to leave the way she came and paused for a moment. "Oh and if you tell anyone, I'll have to come after you. Just wanted to let you know." Maxi gulped at the cheerfully sent threat. Those were the worst, he knew. His father often gave them to him and Matte, so he would know that very well.

"Oh, of course, ma'am. Um, bye."

"Bye-bye." Though neither the boy nor his sister had heard it as they slammed and bolted the iron door behind them. The woman chuckled softly as she heard the arguing that ensued behind the locked door. The wind whistled softly in her ears as it blew by and she blinked, her expression sobering quickly. She turned back to the view over the colony and took in the coming darkness and the beginning of the nightlife in the nearby city.

She slipped back over the roof, onto the side of the office building. With practiced ease, she swung silently into an open window on the second floor. Quickly rubbing her hands over her chilled arms, she chuckled some more, murmuring softly to herself, "Cute kids."

"Thanks," a low dangerous voice replied in the darkness. The woman froze and the voice laughed grimly. "So you thought no one was here. Too bad for you. Don't try anything stupid, I don't want to shoot anyone with my kids around. I'm on a 'weapons are bad' crusade and using one would definitely be a no-no." The woman smirked.

"You haven't changed a bit, Maxwell."

The man's cornflower blue eyes narrowed in interest. "Well, I see I'm at a disadvantage. You know me, but I can't seem to place you."

"Oh, now I'm hurt, Duo. But not surprised. I'm not supposed to be remembered." And then faster than he could aim the gun in his hand, the woman whirled, a small dagger flying out and knocking the weapon out of his hand and straight into the light switch on the wall behind him. Duo blinked in reflex as his eyes burned at the sudden brightening of the room. When he looked back at the anonymous woman who had barged into his office, she pointed a firearm of her own at him.

"I just hate it when the tables turn like that," he sighed, raising his hands in defeat. "Especially when I'm on the wrong side of the table." Looking beyond the steely gunpoint, he saw a faintly familiar face twist into a smile for a second. In the too youthful face, he saw deep indigo blue eyes, a bronzed complexion framed by dark tresses. Those traits weren't the likeliest combination, so they were easy enough to place.

And he had to crack a grin. "Well, well, well. How long has it been, ol' friend?"

She smiled crookedly in return, though not lowering her weapon an inch. "Hmm, I'd say at least a good decade or so. Makes you feel your age, doesn't it?" Duo feigned a confused look.

"Age? What age? I never age." That gained him an amused chuckle though no yielding of weapons. "And I thought you didn't use firearms." Her smile broadened.

"I don't." And she aimed straight between Duo's eyes, which widened with the realization of what she was about to do, and she squeezed the trigger. The gun clicked quietly, signally the empty cartridge. Duo almost fainted with relief as she laughed heartily and tossed the phony gun to him.

"Oh, you think that's so funny, don't you? Well, I hope you get a heart attack from laughing at my poor state of mind. It's completely shattered now, I hope you know."

"It wasn't before? I must be losing my touch."

"Hardy har har. You get funnier every time we meet under the usual circumstances, Cal." She laughed a light enchanting laugh and plopped down on a chair without invitation. He shook his brown haired head in resignation and sat across from her at his desk, carefully pulling his braid over his shoulder so he wouldn't end up sitting on it.

"Those are the most unusual circumstances possible, Maxwell." She grinned at him, but he arched an eyebrow in reply. She gave a little sigh and rolled her eyes, "I know you're wondering about what I'm here for, but that's such a morose topic. Seen your kids, so I don't need to ask about 'em, but I'm going to have to say that they're exact replicas of you. Miniaturized, of course, but still you."

Duo shrugged, not bothering to bug her about her reasons, because he already knew that it wouldn't be any use. "I could take that as a compliment, but Hilde would probably hear with her supermom powers and make me disappear again."

"Ah, Hilde. Don't think she remembers me from the wedding, but she was a very beautiful bride."

"I'll give you her thanks and my agreement. She was even better on the wedding night. Just a joke, just a joke!" He laughed as Cal flicked a paper clip at him. "I didn't think that you made it to our wedding. It was pretty small ceremony, I would've seen you."

"You forget, my survival's depended on my ability to disappear into the crowd. I gave up on that invisibility thing, though."

"Aw, too bad. I could've sold it to you cheap, after the war," he replied only slightly sardonically.

"Okay, fine, fine. If you're going to put up that sulking attitude, then I'll tell you already." She considered him for a moment. "But I can tell you right now, you're not going to like this news."

"Eh, I got used to bad news a long time ago. Just stop drawing it out."

"Well, to put it simply: you're in danger."

"When am I not?"

Cala took his dark humor into stride, seeing his blue eyes flash in acknowledgment of her warning. "Never. But this time it's not all about you. I'm more worried about Hilde and your kids." That last part finally caught his full and undivided attention, his eyes narrowing and his stance stiffening.

"I see. Exactly what do you mean by danger?"

"Can't help you there."

"What?!"

"Sorry, Maxwell. I really can't. I don't know much as it is, and the details that I _do_ know, wouldn't help you in any way." He groaned and massaged his temples.

"If it were anyone but you, I would be pounding the living daylights out of you for that information."

"I know."

"Can you at least tell me what's going on?"

"Nope, no can do. I _can_ tell you that there has already been an attempt made on one of your colleagues' lives. And there are others expected to occur."

"Yeah, I heard about that cutting of the rope thing from Quatre. He didn't think it was much of a coincidence, either. The question is, who's next? And will whoever it was try to strike Trowa again?"

"I'm not sure. All I can say is that the Winner has heightened his personal security and that of his fiancée's, who is now living with him. He is also preparing to alert the Chang's over in the L4 colony. My suggestion to you is to keep a low profile and make sure that your children are never alone. The chances of kidnapping are higher when they're alone, since they are fairly defenseless."

"And they would be leverage against me."

"The same goes for your wife. Try to keep them under constant surveillance from either you or one of your more trusted people."

He tried to look surprised and offended, his big blue eyes widening innocently. "People? Are you implying that I have a network of information sources built into the wide expanse of this colony and a couple other neighboring ones?" His reply naturally sparked a glint of humor in her demeanor.

"I'm not implying, why the hell would I imply? I know, Maxwell. Didn't I tell you that it was my job to know everything?"

"Eh, you kind of missed that point."

The sound of quick footsteps bounding up the stairs and the door banging open, caught them both by surprise and froze them in their separate places. Bright light burst into the room as a cheerful, purple-haired woman entered the room, whistling absently as she leafed through the papers in her hand, heading towards the desk, not paying the least attention to the frozen figures of Duo and Cala.

"Hilde?" Duo's voice came out as a squeak of surprise and the woman, brushed her choppy violet bangs out of her face, to look at him, mild interest and blatant curiosity sparkling on her face.

"Oh, hey, Duo. Didn't know you were still here." Her bright blue eyes slid over to see Cala's startled face and they narrowed slightly in suspicion, though she seemed to hold herself off from jumping to any inappropriate conclusions. "Am I interrupting something? Sorry, the lights were off, I didn't think anyone was here."

Cala blinked, she hadn't been caught in a jam like this one for a while, but she regained her composure quickly enough. "Mrs. Maxwell? It's so nice to meet you, after hearing so much about you." She stood up quickly, to graciously shake the other woman's hand. "I was just speaking to your husband about a business deal of some minor importance and he repeatedly mentioned reference to your name."

"Really?" Pleasure mixed with confusion and slight suspicion sparkled onto her face. "It wasn't anything bad, was it?"

"Oh, no! Of course not! By the way, my name is Arrise Singh. I'm a junior representative of the Winner-Abassi Incorporated."

The suspicious glint in Hilde's eyes did not dull in the least. "And what does the Winner-Abassi Incorporated have business with my husband about?"

The ol' dame didn't miss a thing, Cala thought with a tinge of admiration.

"Trivial matters, Mrs. Maxwell. Mr. Winner is planning on investing some money into new technology and I was here to negotiate some preliminary prices on more rare pieces of old hardware. As a junior representative, I don't get very many interesting assignments, but this one I jumped on. Imagine meeting two of the heroes of the colonies and Earth! Isn't it just my lucky day?"

"Well, I'm sure it is, Miss Singh." Cala didn't miss the patronizing tone and her eyes glittered sharply in reply, though Hilde failed to notice it as she railed on heightened by the praise from the younger woman. "I'm surprised to see such a young woman as yourself be placed in such a high executive position as representative for the Abassi-Winner Incorporated. That's quite a big achievement for someone your age. You're only, what, seventeen or eighteen at most?"

The younger woman smiled, though there was a touch of irony in it that caught Hilde's attention. "The nail on the head, Mrs. Maxwell. But it's not only me, I'm sure. There's a lot of family connections in the company."

"Well, that must be convenient," Hilde said and then without a pause for thought, went right on, "I just wanted to ask you a question, sorry if it seems a little out of place. But I couldn't help but notice that beauty of a motorbike that's parked on the curb, an exact replica of the racing classic that Trent Albrick won the Serisson Grand Prix with last year, even though it wasn't his bike, and I was wondering whose it was. Yours, right?"

A genuine grin sparked on Cala's face. "Yes, it's mine. It's the actual one that won, as a matter of fact. I lent it to Trent for the race, since his bike had broken down. But how would you know about that?"

Duo opened his mouth to answer for his wife, but she easily dropped her stack of papers 'gently' onto his lap and he snapped his mouth shut with a gasp of surprise. "My wonderful husband and I do a little team racing on the side as a hobby, especially during the spring, when we take a few weeks off for a couple races. We're the title-holders of the annual dual race at the Rockefeller Cross. It's a great family sport, though I refuse to allow the children to participate just yet. The crashes are dangerous and Matte is so small, I don't think that she can handle that type of danger yet. She likes to help out with the junkyard, but I don't think she's ready for an actual working machine under her." Duo made a dubious face at her last statement that was quickly wiped away when Hilde turned to hand him a pen to sign some of the forms in his lap.

Indigo shaded eyes sparkled with amusement. "That seems awfully exciting. I feel that I should congratulate you on your wins, but from what I've read, you refused to let them get published in any magazines, so you must feel that congratulations are not in order. Perhaps you'll allow me to compliment your beautiful children, instead."

"Go right ahead." The proud mother beamed. "But don't let this idiot of a husband of mine take all the credit for it. He thinks that they take after him, but that's only the bad, disobedient parts of 'em." Duo rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything, as he leafed through the papers in his lap. Hilde caught the motion and affectionately made a move to pull her husband's long plait of hair. He, of course, moved reflexively away, saving his beloved braid from disaster. "Remind me to tell you about the time that they sneaked up to the roof during a thunderstorm and Maxi almost fell off," she added after laughingly smooching Duo's cheek.

The inevitable cliché that suited the situation was 'cute couple', but even then it was an understatement. They just fit together somehow, complementing each other perfectly.

A flash of envy darted across Cala's face, completely missed by the flirting pair across from her, before the familiar amusement returned to her expression. "I think I've heard about the park incident from Duo, already." Comical confusion struck Duo's face.

"When did I tell you this?"

"You tell it to _everyone_, Duo."

"I do?"

"Duo…" the groan rolled off Hilde's tongue with well-worn ease and she seemed to give up on the sanity of her better half, turning back to her guest. "By the way, how exactly did you see the kids, Miss Singh? They're supposed to be safely tucked away somewhere, at least from what Duo's told me."

"Oh, really? Last I saw," her eyes shifted towards Duo who was suddenly looking panic-stricken and violently shaking his head in a no, "they were safely tucked away on the roof of the building." A dangerous widening of purple eyes followed by an angry narrowing didn't prevent Cala from going on. "I was just wondering-"

"Mathilde Tiga Maxwell and Drei Maxwell, you two are in some major trouble," roared Hilde Schbeiker Maxwell over her shoulder. Frantic scrambling to escape obvious doom could be heard behind the closed door. And Duo cringed while Cala chuckled amusedly.

"Well, I see you two are going to have your hands very full, I'll be on my way. I thank you both for your time and I'll get back to Mr. Maxwell on the order." With that, Cala exited out of the open door, throwing a wink at the fearful Duo over her shoulder.

Hilde turned to her husband, her demeanor transforming from the angry punisher to the glowing woman, still shining from the compliments she had just received. "What a nice young woman. And I thought that the younger generation was going downhill with all the prostitution and lies that have been going around these days. I even read in the newspaper that people are pretending to be or do something they're not just for money or some other devious reason. Isn't that just horrible, Duo?"

Her husband could only grin and shrug in response.

* **Author's Notes** *

hey!

Finally!! I've posted!! Yaya!!! Ok, sorry about the long delay, etc. but I've had work and stuffs, so yeah. This one's not the greatest edited of everything either. But hey, it's there and I adore Duo, so yeah. How'd y'all like the 'kids'? haha, I love 'em, and they're gonna be sticking around for a while (I added in a couple foreshadows in there, if u can find 'em), but that's all I'm gonna say.

Anyhow, I have just revised my first chapter, renaming it, etc. and if u have time check it out, it's a lot better I think. Revisions on my earlier chapter are also being made (since they were written about two years ago and are very and extremely bad!). I'm also working on the next few chappies of this and a couple other fics… hmm, there's only one more GW pilot I haven't covered, so I wonder what the next chapter's gonna be about (*grin*).

Well, that's about all for now…

-w.r


	12. Late Again

Late Again

The streets lining the outskirts of the city were silent and only the faint sound of a motorcycle, roaring away somewhere in the distance, could be heard. He turned the collar to his coat upwards to ward off the chilly late summer night air as he slipped past the aging old lady that was about to lock up the office building that he knew Duo and Hilde Maxwell owned. They'd bought it together to start their business long before they were even romantically interested in one another. If there ever was such a time, he thought dubiously.

He made his way easily through the familiar halls, having been there quite a few times before. Entering the corridor leading to Duo's office, he immediately caught sight of two stonily silent children, their heads properly hanging with shame, that were being reprimanded sharply by a stiff-lipped, purple haired woman.

"How many times have I specifically named the roof as off-limits to you two?!"

"But Mommy, I was only looking for Maxi up there," whined the smaller girl, her long violet hair pulled back in a wispy braid. The taller boy beside her rolled his eyes, his longish brown hair looked mussy and disorderly, as if it hadn't been combed, cut, or generally groomed in a while.

"No 'but's. This is the _last_ time that I'll have you two sneaking up there, is that clear?"

"Yes, ma'am," the two chorused just a little sulkily.

"Good. Now onto punishments-"

"What?! Punishments? Hilde, don't you think that that's getting a little out of hand?"

Trowa's gaze slid to his friend, Duo, who was lounged casually on an office chair beside the children. Though he was the father of two, now, and most definitely not an adolescent anymore, he didn't look much different from when Trowa had first laid eyes on him. The dirt-brown braid that he was so famous for hung over his shoulder as he trained falsely innocent blue eyes pleadingly at his wife.

"I wouldn't be talking if I were you, mister. You're not out of knee deep shi-" Purple eyes glanced at the wide virgin ears beside her before she quickly changed her curse to another more 'suitable' word, "trouble yet. I know you left that door up there open on purpose and you're not going to get away with it." The grown man winced and backed down immediately. Hilde turned back to her children to mete out judgments and that was when Trowa decided to help the kids out and intervene.

He let the stairwell door slam behind him to announce his entrance, before making his way onto the family scene. "Sorry for intruding." Everyone looked up at him in surprise and grins of excitement formed on the boy and girl's faces as they launched themselves at him.

"Uncle Trowa!"

He managed to catch both of them, though he was sure that he was going to get some type of bruise from the impact. "It's nice to see you too."

"Great timing, buddy," murmured Duo as he closed in on them to pry the purple-haired girl off of her 'uncle' and give his old friend a hearty slap on the back.

"I heard that," Hilde warned her husband testily, but she was grinning at her intruding guest. "Hello, Trowa. How's Catherine?" She leaned in to peck him on the cheek and disentangle him from her son's grasp.

"She's good, still getting settled into Quatre's house. He tells me that she's reorganizing everything and he can't find anything anymore."

Duo chuckled heartily, hoisting his Hilde-lookalike of a daughter onto his shoulders. Giggles of delight ensued from the girl as she yanked at her father's long braid of hair. "Yep, that's Cathy, all right."

"So what'd you barge in on our loving family moment for, Trowa?" Hilde asked, not one to beat around the bush as she affectionately tousled her son's messy brown mop of hair. The boy made a face, but stood with it, seeming to prefer this treatment of torture over long and painful grounding. Trowa eyed him sympathetically.

"Not much, Hilde. Just needed to talk to Duo about something."

"Anything important?"

Hilde's deep violet eyes sparkled with mischief as she none-too-gently headlocked her son, resting her own head on top of her crossed, restricting arms. Maxi's scowl deepened and a pout began to form. "Oh, nothing really. I also wanted to check up on you guys. Haven't seen you all for a while." Trowa smiled calmly at the almost picturesque family with Matte draped over Duo's shoulders and Hilde leaning casually on the growing Maxi.

The image could easily have thawed any heart and Trowa's willingly melted like butter on a grill. A foreign ache yanked at the corner of his heart before he could brush it off and move on.

"So what exactly are those punishments for?" Laughter twinkled in moss-green eyes as both Maxwell boy and girl groaned loudly.

"Uncle Trowa! Didja hafta remind her?!" wailed Matte as she buried her face into her father's hair. Hilde rolled her eyes patiently, straightening her head so that only her chin was supported by her arms and her son's head and grinned at Trowa.

"I didn't need to be reminded, but now that we're on the subject-"

"It's my cue to leave, I guess," Duo interrupted cheerfully, smoothly swinging Matte down from her high perch. Hilde rounded on Duo, her lips pursing as she let out a full-blown glower at her husband.

"All right, but don't even think that that means you're going to get away scot-free, mister."

Duo flashed a lopsided grin and swooped in on her for quick peck on the lips, succeeding in kissing off Hilde's eagle-sharp frown. "Now when did I ever say that, supermom?"

"You didn't have to," Hilde purred, angling her head, vying for more lip contact, "I can read your mind, remember?" She released Maxi from his headlock to pull Duo's face closer for a longer, deeper liplock.

Again Trowa felt that foreign tug.

Just what was he feeling? He couldn't be jealous. Could he? No, why would he be? What was wrong with him? He had never felt like this before. So why now?

But before he could make any life-changing epiphanies, his thoughts were interrupted by Matte's girlish giggle at her older brother's antics. Maxi, caught in between his mother and father's romantic moment, made an icky face, tongue lolling and eyes rolling. Matte, left out of the sandwich, ran over to her Uncle Trowa, grabbing his hand and yanking at him, still giggling foolishly.

"Look, look, Uncle Trowa! Mommy and Daddy are _kissing_. Mommy and Daddy sittin' in a tree k-i-s-s-i-n-g. First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes Maxi in a baby carriage!"

"Well, of course, honey," intoned Hilde patiently once she'd come up for air. "How else did we have Maxi and you?"

Duo didn't seem to be handling the situation quite as calmly, though. Trowa could see the flush working its way up from his friend's neck to his ears and finally his face. Hilde caught sight of it, too, and snorted amusedly. "Honey, it's only sex. What is it with men and sex? They want it until their dying day, but they just can't talk about it in front of women." That didn't help matters much either. Duo's face just got redder and both Matte and Maxi went into shock.

"Uncle Trowa, you bear witness of Mom saying the 's' word, okay?" Maxi croaked in a stage whisper, inching his way away from his beet-red father and incredulous mother. "And if you ever tell any of my friends, I'll hafta hunt you down."

Hilde, never missing a beat, snapped her head towards her son with a quick reprimand. "Maxi! Where do you get these horrible curses? Moreover, where do you get the gall to threaten your Uncle Trowa? Apologize right now and don't let me hear you even think anything like that again." The guilty one winced and fixed puppy-dog eyes on Trowa.

"Sorry, Uncle Trowa. I didn't mean it."

"No problem, Maxi." He landed a light punch on the shoulder of the almost six-year old who grinned thankfully for the smooth save in return. And glancing over at his old friend, Trowa decided to rescue Maxi's father as well. The infamous heartbreaker's face was starting to tinge purple. "Hilde, it's getting late. Isn't it a schoolday tomorrow? Why don't you go on home, I'll give Duo a ride back."

Reminded of the time, Hilde glanced down at her watch and gasped. "Ten after ten already! Thanks ahead of time for driving Duo home, Trowa. I'll see you later, Lois." Hilde threw a wink back at her husband as she began to herd her flock to the door. "Come on, you two troublemakers, we'd better get going. It's way past your bedtime." Automatic whines and cries of unjust bedtimes followed as she ushered them out.

Curious, Trowa angled a glance at Duo as they silently made their way up to Duo's office. Duo had seemed to start breathing again and his face was beginning to regain its normal coloring.

"Lois?"

The happily married man went scarlet again and couldn't seem to maintain eye contact. "Don't ask, Trowa. You'll find out one day, when you get hitched and tied down."

Something flickered in Trowa's eyes, but Duo missed it as he turned to unlock his office door and let them in.

Sighing heavily with relief, Duo rested his posterior on a sofa arm, crossing his leg to rest on his left knee, while Trowa took the seat opposite him. "Now what is this visit about? No matter how much you know I adore you, you never come around these parts unless you have bad news."

Trowa opened his mouth to protest, but Duo cut him off before he could begin.

"And don't give me any of that glib of yours. It'll work with Hilde, but I've known you too well and too long."

Trowa opened his mouth to reply, but Duo interrupted him again, before he could say anything at all.

"I just can't believe that you've become such a smooth talker. I always remember that you, Heero, and Wu Fei were always the quiet ones." He shivered comically. "Shows a lot about the quiet ones. The scariest of 'em all, if you ask me. All that thinking, plays with your head. Heero is," Duo shuddered again, "even now, the scariest guy I know, beside you and Wu Fei, of course. I mean, he's never really lost that glare of his. And when you jokingly bring up the fact that he's got some pretty deep rings under his eyes, probably from lack of sleep, and you wonder what exactly is keeping that sneaky newlywed from sleeping, he tosses that scary glare at you, along with some pretty empty threats about killing you and chopping your braid off, well…" Duo seemed to have run out of air and Trowa took his chance to cut in.

"Duo, don't you ever wonder if Heero, Wu Fei, and I were only quiet because we just couldn't get a word in edgewise?" A brown brow arched above bottle-green eyes and Duo chuckled heartily.

"I think Hilde's mentioned that theory to me once or twice."

"Well, that wouldn't be the first time Hilde's right."

"And when you _do_ talk, it's to side with her! Not that I blame you. I'd have to say that Hilde's even scarier than Heero when she's in a fit."

"You're the one who married her."

That made Duo puff out with pride. "Well, I never said I couldn't take it."

"I'm not even going to start."

His usually cheerful friend's eyes darkened and he leaned forward. "You could start with this warning I have a feeling you're about to give me. This being the second one I've had in a day, I'm starting to worry."

Astonishment had Trowa straightening in his comfortable seat, his eyes widening slightly. "A second warning?"

"Yep." Having received confirmation of his suspicions, Duo sat back again, though he did not relax in the least. "You're getting a little rusty, aren't ya?" Suspicious, Trowa's eyes narrowed.

"Who was he?"

"Now, I can't divulge my sources, now can I?" His fellow Gundam pilot's expression turned guarded and Trowa halted his verbal assault, switching instead to educated guesses that he was famous for.

"So he's not within your organization, or you would tell me."

"Hmm." Duo's cornflower blue colored eyes flickered with humor and Trowa could've sworn that his mouth had twitched out of its austere countenance but it returned too quickly for certainty.

"What?"

"Well, buddy, you're barking up the wrong tree, if you ask me."

"It's a she?"

"I wouldn't know that, now would I?"

"A woman from outside gave you a warning before this." Trowa's brow furrowed in thought, his mind darting to the grim possibility that lay before him.

"What's wrong?"

"This sounds too familiar. Quatre was also given a warning by a source he wouldn't let me confirm."

Duo rested his chin on a hand and his bangs shadowed his forehead in thought. "I wouldn't know if what you're thinking is possible. My friend, she's kind of mysterious. I don't really know much about her." Green eyes sharpened like knives at him and he corrected himself. "Except that I would trust her with my life. Already have a couple times."

"How long have you known her?"

"Back since the wars. Our missions collided and we ended up helping each other. She's kept in contact with me ever since."

A fine brow raised in a query that voiced itself. "_She's_ kept in contact with _you_, giving you free information all this time?"

"Yeah. The information is always correct and she's never asked for anything in return. I never found out who exactly she is or where she lives. I figure she has some type of run-in with the law, so can't tell me."

"Or she just won't."

"Maybe. But when we met, she wasn't in a position that's very comfortable with the law."

"Turncoat?"

A negative flashed through Duo's pensive gaze. "Doubt it. She was a spy."

"Most spies are traitors."

Duo shook his head in a definite no. "Her mission wasn't like that at all. She infiltrated the Oz base in secret and hacked into the central database to steal their files. I was about to destroy the command center and a guard stumbled into me. He alerted his superior before I could silence him. I didn't have the Deathscythe with me at the time and she and I ran into each other trying to make a break for it." A sudden smirk pulled at his grim face as his eyes developed a distant look. "We got each other captured and helped each other make it out of there."

"Sounds like fun."

His attention snapped back to the present and his smirk widened. "Yep, plenty of it. She saved my skin enough times that I trust her."

"And she's been visiting you periodically over the years?"

"Yeah. Somehow she usually gets information about fires before even the Preventors do. I take it to them and I'm a big hero. I don't know how Une can believe that I handle a regular job and Hilde not to mention getting the two little devils that I call kids out of trouble and Hilde's wrath and still manage to get all that four-one all on my own."

"I doubt she does. She knows about your organization."

"Has it really been that obvious?"

"We just know you better."

"I have a feeling that you and the chief of the Preventors aren't the only ones who know about my tiny little network of information."

"Like I said before, we know you better than to simply sit around and wait for trouble to come to you."

"And I suppose you all depend on me so much, huh?"

"You're the only with enough time to do this."

"What?! I already told you, I've got enough on my hands! I never understood why you or Heero or Wu Fei or even Quatre couldn't start up your own grapevine!"

Amusement twinkled in emerald eyes. "Quatre's heading a major corporation that's just gone through a merge. Wu Fei's taking care of rebuilding an entire colony, not to mention Sally Po Chang and their daughter Hazy. All while Heero's taking care of homeland security, as well as the Prime Minister of the Earth-Space Coalition and probably the future President of the Earth Sphere Unified Nation." The former caught Duo's attention and he sobered.

"I thought Relena refused the nomination for the next presidency."

"I hear she's seriously considering the matter."

"And you say you don't have a grapevine. Well, what about you?"

"I've been trying to solve a mystery."

"What mystery?"

"A girl."

Interest flickered in cheerful blue eyes, spelling trouble. "So you've finally met her, huh?"

"What?" Confusion filled Trowa's face. "Met who?"

"Oh, come on, Trowa. You can't fool me. You've kicked the bachelor bucket for good, haven't you? That's a pity, really. Bachelorhood should really be enjoyed to the fullest, but I'm proud that you lasted the longest. I could've sworn that Catherine would blackmail you into at least getting involved with someone for a while. That's what happened this time, right?"

"What?" Still at sea, he blinked and shook his head. "No, of course not."

"I'm disappointed in her! So who is she? How'd you meet? Does she snore at night? What's her-"

"Duo, I don't know what you're talking about." He could feel heat creeping into his face.

"Oh, come on, Trowa! Don't give me this! I'm not Hilde or Cathy. I won't say a word to anyone." Trowa rolled his eyes and sat back, folding his arms across his chest and waiting for an explanation. And earning a dubious and thoughtful look from Duo. "You really don't know, huh? I'm talking about candlelight dinners, diamond engagement rings, weddings. Anything above ring a bell? It's called _amore_ by the Italian." Trowa barely stifled a groan, pinching his nose in an effort to stop himself from banging his head against the wall.

Duo started ticking off fingers. "Let's see. Cathy got bit by it along with Quatre. Wu Fei went through a phase, I think. He's not entirely out of it, though. Doubt Sally'll ever let him either. Hmm, I've been hit by it a couple times, but Hilde managed to bulldoze me over completely in the end. And Heero… well he's Heero." His blue eyes sharpened and flicked over to Trowa. "Now, you. I think you're the only one who really has no idea what I'm talking about. Yeah, you've got Cathy, but it's just not the same as finding someone to love and to hold forever."

"So you think that I've finally found this in this girl that I'm trying to figure out?"

"Well, that would be the first time you've bothered to even approach any female figure and try to 'figure' her out."

Trowa opened his mouth to retort, but the image of Cala flashed through his mind. Cala grinning up at him, her hair tied back in a quick ponytail and fussing over his beautiful sister. Cala's sweet voice singing along in the passenger seat to a tune on the radio, her wild hair tossing about in the wind from the open window. And Cala's piercing blue gaze staring intensely into his as she swung haphazardly from the trapeze, her hands gripped tightly around his. The mere thought of her drove his reply out of his mind.

"I… I… What- what were we talking about?"

An unmistakable grin cracked on Duo's face. "Ha! My point proven. You're hung over her." Trowa quickly snapped back to reality in order to save himself.

"I'm not trying to 'figure her out' _that_ way, Duo. She's done some fishy things and I'm trying to figure out what she's hiding."

"Yeah, okay, sure."

"Duo, this girl is the one that saved me from that murder attempt."

"Huh." Surprise registered on Duo's face and he twisted it, thinking. "That's food for thought, all right, but that still doesn't deny the fact that you're completely hung over her." Trowa sighed, rolled his eyes, and gave up.

"We'd better get a move on." He stood, brushing invisible lint off of his jeans. "Hilde will probably be wondering if we stopped to hit the bars and clubs on the way back or something." This diversionary tactic seemed to successfully steal Duo's attention away from Trowa's failed love life.

"Ah ha, ah ha. Not funny." Groaning as he got up, he continued, "But yeah, we'd better get a move-on. No point just sitting here and blabbing when my life's on the line." After snatching a ring of keys off of his desk and tugging his coat off of a chair, Duo was off and out the door. Suppressing a smug grin, Trowa followed.

****

Author's Note

Hey all!

Sorry about the lateness, but my muse went on vacation all summer long and I debated about whether or not to end it where I ended it or to prolong it a bit further. Oi… so at any rate here it is! Thanks for all the wonderful reviews from (drumroll pls) **Garu**, **Rioy**, **Ashirakya**, and **wolfguy**, with a special thanks to **Lee-chan**, whose encouraging emails pushed, prodded, and generally shoved me forward, and as always to **Megs**, my one and only sis.

Thanks again and I promise that the next chappie will be sooner…

-w.r


	13. Fiery Nightmares

Fiery Nightmares

The light-hearted giggles of children resounded clearly and Cala blinked. She stood on a firm, but aged stone path, surrounded by sprigs of brightly colored blossoms dotting out of lush, artful greenery. Brilliant sunlight gilded the gardens with gold. The graceful lines of an elegant fairy-tale-like palace stood in the distance, while the soothing swish of the tides sweeping in and out trickled through the air.

The peaceful scene was familiar. Too familiar.

Exhaling softly, Cala looked down the stone path, toward the source of laughter, already knowing what she would see. On a perfectly manicured lawn beyond a white-washed trellis twined with pale-petaled roses, a small silver-haired boy playfully chased a tiny, doll-like dark-haired girl. Though her heart ached at the sight, Cala couldn't help the bittersweet smile that twitched her lips at their carefree innocence.

The girl glanced behind her as she darted to and fro, her feet bare. Cala knew that her lost shoes had been tossed into the ocean upon the girl's first chance. The once snow-white lacy, party dress had contracted several stains and tears. Curls were struggling to survive in her wild black hair, where a wrinkled silk ribbon, in matching colors with her dress, had lost its grip of the lengthy mane, hanging awkwardly to the side by a few strands. The boy that doggedly pursued the girl was in better condition. His shoes remained intact, though the shiny leather was slightly scuffed. A grass stain punctuated his white, linen breeches and one of the silk stockings that were supposed to hit just under his knees had slipped to his ankle, but the rest of his boy-sized formal wear remained untouched.

"Get back here, Cally!"

The boy's frustrated tone echoed strangely to Cala's ears and she swallowed tears as they headed in her direction. Their faces were so clearly defined. The girl's filled with unrestrained laughter and mischief, the boy's with unwanted amusement and determination. Their eyes, Cala thought sadly, their eyes were the same. Royally blue and deeply expressive. Just like Cala's own.

"Get back here and tell me where you put my brand new foil!"

The girl giggled again, exposing pearly white teeth, and gleefully dodged his grab for her. "Nope! It's hidded, Millie! And you can't have it back 'till you teach me how to foil fight with it!"

"You can at least _say_ it right, Cally," the boy sighed, feigning left and leaning right, missing the girl by only a hair. "It's not 'foil fighting', it's _fencing_."

"Foil fighting or fencing, you still hafta teach it to me, before you get it back," she retorted tartly, whirling to stick out her tongue at the boy. Swiftly taking advantage of her pause, he lunged for her again and they both tumbled to the ground. Cala had to stifle a giggle as the frantic boy scrambled up, frightened at the thought of his counterpart hurt. The unharmed girl began to laugh at the boy's reaction. "That was fun, Millie! Let's do it again!" Startled, but relieved, 'Millie' sat back and shook his head.

"Cally, you are so weird sometimes."

An explosion ripped through the air and Cala started, turning away from the two children to see the black smoke billowing steadily up from the flames licking hungrily at the white walls of the palace. A heat haze filled the air and trailed down the clear lines of the gardens. Sirens wailed. The ground shook and rumbled with further explosions that boomed in the distance and looming shadows in the suddenly harsh sunlight scattered themselves across the summery skyline. The chaotic sounds of battle drowned out the rhythmic beat of the tides. Alarmed, Cala looked back to where the children stood, to see only the girl remaining, her dress now blackened with soot, dirt streaking across her face, shock etched into every its every line.

"Mama?" It was a whisper, but Cala could hear it loud as day. "Papa?"

The tiny rosebud lips trembled as the girl took a hesitant step forward towards the burning building. Blue eyes, the color and depth of the sea, wavered, realization registering behind them. And suddenly Cala was seeing through those eyes. Once again. Once again feeling the bottom of her stomach drop out and disappear. And once again, Cala felt her voice crack as it ripped through the simmering heat. "Mama!" Her feet began to stumble down the debris littered stone path, bits of smoking wood cutting into the soft calluses on the soles of her feet as she began to build speed. "Papa! No!"

Salty warm water seeped onto her tongue as unnoticed tears streamed down her cheeks; her eyes watering and spilling over from the thick, blinding smoke as well as shock and disbelief. Several panes of the stately windows of the palace had shattered upon the initial explosion, leaving one with a gap wide enough to admit her small body. The shaky adrenaline of panic and rush made her limbs like blocks of wood, encumbering her as she levered herself through and a shard of glass slicing through her palm and forearm. But the heat and pain that seared the scratches were nothing compared to the choking heat that broke over her like a flood. Flames danced and raced over the smooth lines of the interior, charring the pristine white of the graceful moldings that decorated the walls to a harsh black, while cackling evilly, snapping at the soft skin of her chubby baby cheeks. The air, thick with heat and dense smoke, made her gasp for breath as it scratched at her throat and stifled her lungs.

Slipping on the waxed marble tiles, scattered with blackened plaster, beneath her feet, she lumbered blindly through the dark smoke, throwing out her hands to try to navigate her way. Something hard hit her feet and with a yelp as pain shot up her leg, Cala lurched and fell, hitting the floor with a smack. Gulping in the suddenly clearer, purer air, she glanced back at the broken leg of an elegantly carved side-table that she had tripped over before scrambling forward on her hands and knees, coughing every now and then as she caught a whiff of the suffocating smoke.

Screams marked her way as a wall crumbled nearby and a muddied workman's boot almost crushed one of her fingers as it crunched hurriedly by, followed by the fluttering sooty and tattered hem of a once-white brocade gown.

And still, Cala pushed on.

Following landmarks that she had once known. An oil portrait of a fat lady with white hair, knocked askew to her right. Then the finely etched lines of an Oriental vase fallen and in pieces on the pink, marble floor. All of it darkened and yellowed by the ever constant flames. Until Cala reached the wide, elegantly shaped doorways that she'd known to push out into an arena, clear and beautiful of light and sound. Crystallized laughter touched by cool palm fronds on the edges and fanning over a high dais that held warm embraces and low, loving murmurs.

And a girl, like herself, except light where she was shadow. But whose wide blue eyes matched hers in hue if not in shape and curve. And whose shy, warm smile accompanied her own in laughter and play.

But, now, in the midst of the burning flames, the thick doors were the blockade of a prison gate. Cala shrunk back in horror as loud thumps echoed from them into the air, muffled shouting and cursing, along with anguished moans and cries, heard from behind. Devilish flames danced gleefully along the frames, but the doorway seemed otherwise unblocked. The glint of a burnished gold key turned in the door's lock caught her eye. But before she could move, the fire surged, roaring in triumph as the columns guarding the sides of the entrance toppled in front of the doors, flames leaping up to race up and over the elegant engravings marking the door. And the screams and sobs behind it increased tenfold.

A pair of strong hands and arms closed in on her from behind and she let out a strangled yell as she was lifted up in the air. Her panic subsided a bit as the grip was familiar and she looked up, expecting to see the dark hair and bronzed skin, wrinkles worn by weather and worry, of the one person who'd been beside her from the very beginning. But the face of Azim was replaced by that of one, faceless blonde-haired man whose lab-coated arms dragged her, imprisoning her, much like those twin, locked doors.

She noticed absently that her limbs were longer now, more capable, as they writhed, striking out at whoever it was that held her. The smell around her, too, was different. Accompanying the familiar scent of burning plaster and wood was the direly acrid odor of chemicals going up in flames. Gone was the blazing scene of ruptured serenity, replaced by that of a once-orderly hospital ward.

Afire.

The fire was the same.

It had always been the same.

A uniformed nurse rushed by, the huddled form of a patient in his arms. And still, Cala kicked and screamed at the man whose binding grip was preventing her from moving on and finding the ones she loved.

"_Let me go!_" Snarling, she stomped her foot down and rammed her elbow into the man's ribcage. With an 'oof' of pain, the man stumbled and Cala took her chance to break free of his grip and run forward into the thickening smoke. Once again.

Behind her, she heard the man curse and leave her to her insanity and the raging fire. Running flat out, Cala didn't bother to crawl this time, merely lifting her arm to shield her eyes and mouth from the worst of the smoke. Coughing and hacking into her sleeves, she looked frantically around her, the burning beams surrounding her, but little else.

Where _was_ she?!

"Auntie Shar-"

Cala's call was interrupted as a light fixture crashed to the floor two feet away from her and she jumped back. Frustrated and coughing, still, she pushed on. A voice, thin and strained, called back, weak and softened with distance. Gasping, Cala drove on, calling out once more.

"Where are you?!"

The voice replied, interrupted by coughing of its own and Cala desperately followed it. But suddenly, the fire had surrounded her. Yellow and orange flames leaping out at her on all sides and Cala whirled in panic. No way out. The voice cried again. This time in pain. Her fingers shook with fear and she could feel the dismay beginning to rise in her throat. The groaning creak of a beam sounded as it collapsed and Cala felt the floor beneath her shift. The voice's shout became a shrill, aching scream.

And just before the floor gave way, Cala let the panic overcome her, for the first time in her life.

She'd failed.

In more ways than one.

Because, this time, the fire had been hers.

And like failure often does, the floor buckled beneath her and she fell into an empty pit of darkness, surrounded by flames. The soft cushion of her bed seemed to catch her and Cala woke up with a jolt, throwing her sweat-soaked and tossed bed-sheets off of her to sit up, panting for breath. It had been a dream. Just a dream.

A scarily accurate dream in many ways. But still, just a dream.

Cupping her face in her hands, Cala choked back tears for the child she'd once been. The one who'd lost her family, her life, and her hope in one day, when the Castle by the Sea, capital of the country known as the Sanc Kingdom, had fallen, burned to ashes by those whose hearts were filled with hate. She'd thought it had taken the little girl Cally along with it. But she'd been mistaken. The little girl Cally, that Cala had once been, had not died in the fires of hate until she'd been consumed by her own, killing the woman who had loved her like a daughter.

****

Author's Note

Hey all!

YES, I'm still alive. Finally (hopefully ::knocks on wood::) got over my dry spout and am pumping out "stuff" once again. Sorry if this chappie's a little confusing, but it is kinda meant to be that way ". Dreams and whatnot. But in case you were wondering, the dream's a mixture of Cala's own imagination and real events, as some dreams happen to be for some ppl. Also, pay attention to the 'little things' (ie. the locked doors, the voice Cala was looking for, etc.), they're pretty important (::wink, wink::), but that's all I'm gonna say :P. 

Now onto dedications… This one goes out to (drumroll, please): **Mystic Jade**, **Valtaz13**, and my one and only jie **Xinsei** (better known as **Megs**). Thanks for all your support (aka bugging me via IM/email :P) and general wonderfulness. And to the rest of my dearly beloved readers, I'd probably never bother to sit down and stare at the blinking cursor on that empty page if it weren't for you :P.

Anyhoo, enough mush. I've got the next three chaps outlined and started already, so hopefully I'll be chuggin' 'em out more than the town drunk can down beer bottles. Also, if you can, check out my new site at:  for the stories over there so it looks perdy now :P. So check it out and leave me a message ^.^.

-w.r


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